


Paradise In Trouble

by CapedCommissioner (smittenbritain)



Series: You Feel Like Paradise [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Background Jason Todd/Roy Harper, Background Tim Drake/Conner Kent, Fake Marriage, M/M, Sex, Trans Bruce Wayne, Trans Male Character, background Dick Grayson/Wally West
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:40:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 51,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27480598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smittenbritain/pseuds/CapedCommissioner
Summary: 'Bruce Wayne, Secret Wedding Scandal - Who, When, And Where?'A keen reporter spotting Bruce's fake wedding ring had put just a little more pressure on his relationship with Jim than he wanted this early, but that was fine. It was all fine. They could find a way to keep going behind closed doors, and nobody needed to know justwhohe was dating.That was, until mysterious letters started appearing that promised to solve this puzzle for Gotham if Bruce didn't figure it out first.
Relationships: Jim Gordon/Bruce Wayne
Series: You Feel Like Paradise [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1914592
Comments: 28
Kudos: 30





	1. Week 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to part two!
> 
> If you're new here, it's probably not necessary to read the first part if you don't want to, though there will be a few pieces of context you'll need: Bruce and Jim went undercover together at a resort as fake married, began their relationship for real, and have continued it under the radar upon returning to Gotham. Their families know, but that's it - until a reporter spotted Bruce with his ring on, because he forgot to remove it before going back into the public eye. Whoops.
> 
> I have purposefully left the villain for this fic untagged because I kind of wanted to leave the mystery up in the air. However, if you'd like to know, you can ask in a comment and I'll happily reply. I'll add it into the tags once the fic is complete!
> 
> Otherwise, you can find me on tumblr @capedcommissioner! If there's any scenes you'd like to see from a perspective other than Bruce's, please let me know in a comment and I'll add it to my list. That'll be coming up in a separate fic.
> 
> And, finally, do not interact if you ship incest.

Bruce stared down the length of the dining table, trying to keep a straight face while his sons decidedly didn’t. Dick had his head buried in his arms as he wheezed, and Jason was busy thumping a hand on his chest as his deep, booming laugh echoed throughout the room. Any other day, Bruce would delight in the sound given how rare and free it was, but right now it just made his cheeks prickle with embarrassment. It certainly didn’t help that Tim’s shoulders shook with his own barely suppressed giggles. 

For once, Bruce was glad that Wally had run back to Keystone City early, because he wasn’t sure he could take a fourth person laughing at him. _World’s Greatest Detective,_ he thought bitterly, _slipping up with the easiest mistake in the world._

Damian, at least, looked suitably dismayed. It was wonderfully sobering.

He opened his mouth, only to stop when Dick raised his head. There was a too wide grin on his face, one that Bruce usually saw when he and his brothers were in the midst of a prank war. “You forgot to take _your ring_ off?”

Jim sighed next to him, folding his arms on the table. “Yeah. And now the world thinks Bruce Wayne secretly got married while he was away for a week.”

At least Barbara and Alfred were better at hiding their reactions, Bruce thought. He could always rely on Alfred to remain calm and steady when necessary, but there was no mistaking the curve of his smile or the crook of his eyebrow; the man wanted to laugh, and it was only the fact that most of the table had already dissolved into giggles that kept him from joining them. Barbara wasn’t trying to hide it as much, but Bruce was thankful for the way she shot them a sympathetic, if amused, smile.

“Well, that’s not far from the truth,” she said, grinning at the two of them. 

Bruce sighed. “No,” he admitted, “but married already is a little much for a relationship that’s barely off the ground.” He liked Jim - had liked him for a while - but he wouldn’t blame him if this situation sent him running for the hills already.

Jim’s knee bumped against his under the table, and his worried thoughts stilled in an instant. 

“Not if the media buys the same story,” Jim muttered.

“We’re not going with that,” Bruce murmured back. “We’ll jinx ourselves before we’re even a week in.”

Damian tutted. “Don’t be superstitious, Father.”

“Thank you, Damian,” Bruce sighed. He leaned forwards, carefully lacing his fingers together. The ring was a simple gold band on his left hand, glittering somehow innocently in the light overhead, and it was just as damning now as it had been on the front cover of the _Gotham Gazette_ that morning. He’d already ignored a call from his PR team at work, determined to first head off his own family and get his story straight with Jim. 

Jason rocked back on his chair so he teetered on two legs, still grinning in a way that was positively sharklike. “So, B, what’s the plan?”

As Bruce rubbed at his temple, Jim shrugged. “We’re working on it.”

“In the meantime,” Bruce continued, “we’d appreciate your discretion, and if you didn’t go mentioning it-”

“Whoops.”

He watched, pained, as Tim pressed send. “Who?”

“Kon.”

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose. “Of course. The one who is, in fact, related to not one, but _two_ reporters. Wonderful.”

Tim had the grace to look a little bit sheepish. “He won’t tell anyone if I ask.”

“I would imagine Clark already knows, Bruce,” Alfred reminded him. His smile was much more obvious now, but he was still so damned polite. “I imagine the story came across his desk this morning just like it did yours.”

“Wasn’t my desk,” Bruce muttered, pressing his thumb against his nose just a touch harder for a moment, “but you’re right. Just ask Kon not to spread it, I’ll deal with Clark.”

Tim nodded and began tapping away at his phone. Quietly, he said, “I’m not the only one who texted.”

Jim huffed out a soft laugh next to him as Bruce stared down the other three. “Who else?”

Dick raised his hand, and when Bruce arched an eyebrow, he shrugged innocently. “You know Wally would find out next time he stayed over anyway, Bruce.”

He shifted his gaze. “Jason?”

“Jesus, I hadn’t even said anything to Roy yet. No need to get your panties in a twist.”

Bruce decided to ignore that. He wasn’t in the mood for obvious bait, not when things were stressful enough. 

Really, though, it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. Right now, all the press had was the fact that he wore a ring; they didn’t know who had the matching one, or whether he was engaged or married, despite their theories. It was brand new - hell, the photo had been taken the day before - and they were clearly still scrambling to find out more details while also being the first to break the news. Ideally, they wouldn’t notice that Jim had quietly started wearing a ring, too.

His heart squeezed as he glanced down at Jim’s hand. He didn’t need to wear it, but he was. They were in this together.

“So,” Bruce said, slow and careful, “the plan is to keep things _quiet._ Don’t speak to reporters if they ask. That’s all I - all _we_ \- ask of you right now.”

Jim’s knee knocked against his again, sending a starburst of warmth skating along Bruce’s skin. It was miraculous, really, how much just that one touch helped him to find his centre again. He didn’t like being stern with his sons, but one slip up here would create a lot more problems than just a bit of hassle from reporters.

Now that he thought about it, maybe Clark’s connections were a good idea. It probably didn’t hurt to ask, just to get a clearer picture of what the press knew for certain.

“That’s easy enough,” Barbara said, beaming at him. She’d gotten her giggles under control, at least, and now she was the picture of innocence. Bruce knew her better, though, and knew she’d tease just as much as the others once it was reasonable to. 

Damian shoved himself back from the table with a withering frown. “I doubt I’ll have any trouble,” he said as he stood, “but good luck dealing with those _hounds_ out there. The gate is crowded this morning.”

Jim sighed, heavy and tired. “I didn’t think about that. I knew they’d come looking for you to get answers, but…”

Bruce waved the thought away. “We’ll just stay inside for now. We can think about them when we’ve figured this out.”

Apparently, the others took it for a dismissal. They dispersed, though Jason lingered to help Alfred gather up the mostly forgotten breakfast dishes scattered across the table. Barbara leaned in to talk to her father, quiet and comforting, and Bruce took the moment of reprieve to let his thoughts settle. Now that he’d headed off his family before they saw the news, things would be easier.

At least, he hoped so.

* * *

Once they were safely tucked away upstairs, out of sight of the kids and the reporters, Bruce sunk down onto the edge of his bed with a heavy sigh. Jim settled down next to him, a hand on his knee, and Bruce let his own cover it. Wordlessly, Jim flipped his hand over to tangle his fingers with Bruce’s.

Holding hands with Jim was different now. Back at Paradise, it had been wonderful, but troublesome. It had been a taste of too much, something that Bruce had longed for but assumed he would never have - with anyone, for that matter, not just Jim. He’d gone into the mission with good intentions, promising himself he’d ignore the crush he’d harboured for too long, only to have all of that crumble the first time Jim’s hand met his. 

Now, Bruce couldn’t get enough of it. It was easy affection, and there were stories in the lines and scars on Jim’s hands. Idly, he rubbed his thumb against a thin white line on the side of Jim’s thumb, and he tried to imagine where it had come from.

“Shaving accident,” Jim murmured. When Bruce looked up, the corners of his mouth were tugged into a smile. “It’s from years ago, before Babs got me a fancy electric razor for my birthday.”

Bruce chuckled quietly. “But your thumb, though, Jim?”

“It’s not very interesting. I fumbled when I grabbed it, and next thing I knew…” Jim shrugged, his moustache twitching with amusement as he squeezed Bruce’s fingers. “Wasn’t my best morning.”

“I can imagine.” Bruce puffed out a little breath. Some of the tension in his chest went with it, but the worries hanging over him remained, threatening to drop. “Better than this morning, though?”

Jim levelled him with a look that pierced right through him. It was amazing what one week of close company changed; before that, Bruce knew he could stick to his usual persona, and Jim wouldn’t know a thing that was going on behind his smile. Now, though, he knew him not only as Bruce, but as Batman, too. That alone meant that Jim had a sudden wealth of knowledge to draw on, years of friendship to work with when picking out exactly what was bothering Bruce.

He felt naked, even though he was fully dressed. It was an alien feeling, but not unwelcome; he just wasn’t used to vulnerability like this.

“Well, they’re both up there,” Jim teased, and Bruce found himself exhaling a breathy laugh before he even felt it in his throat. “But seriously, Bruce, it’s okay. I’m not upset, you know that, right?”

He’d known it was true before he’d even said a word. If Jim could use their existing friendship to pick him apart, Bruce could do the same right back, and he hadn’t seen one single tell that usually pointed towards a frustrated Jim Gordon. Right now, he was just gentle, sweet, and everything warm that Bruce had come to expect from him from the handful of days they’d had together. 

Abruptly, Bruce wondered just what he’d done to deserve an angel like Jim.

“I know,” he promised, “I was just… hoping for a little more privacy before the press found out.” He glanced down at his unoccupied left hand and grimaced. “I should have paid better attention.”

“I already told you that I forgot to take mine off until the night before we talked,” Jim said, bumping his shoulder against Bruce’s fondly. “I’m sure as shit not taking it off now. I’m not gonna leave you to suffer this alone.”

Bruce brushed his thumb over the band on Jim’s finger. “You don’t need to do that. What if people ask you?”

“For starters, Renee already knows I fucked up,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “If we weren’t trying to keep the investigation under wraps, I would call her and ask her to correct the press already just to buy us some more time to ourselves.” 

It really was a shame that they couldn’t do that, Bruce thought. It was a nice idea, even though he hoped that their relationship went on long enough to become public knowledge one day anyway. That was much, much further down the line, though, and he tried not to think about it too much after not even a week together. 

“Second,” Jim continued, holding up another finger, “I’m gonna keep wearing my damn ring out of solidarity. Nobody will notice if I do it. They won’t even know it’s connected to the investigation. Hell, I can always say Babs got it for me.”

Bruce frowned. “Your daughter bought you a ring that you conveniently wear on your wedding finger,” he said, deadpan.

Jim shrugged. “Maybe it’s just more comfortable. Maybe I prefer it. Or, maybe, I secretly got married while I was out of town for a week. Who knows? Not them, that’s for sure.” He paused, his smile fading, and then added, “Well, maybe Renee will. I _might_ have to tell her about us.”

He couldn’t help it: he laughed. Jim grinned right along with him, and there was a warm sparkle in his eyes that made Bruce fall for him all over again. Admittedly, the idea of having Jim right next to him while they figured things out was a pleasant one; while Bruce prided himself on his own control, Jim had always been steadfast and strong at his side, and he hoped that that would easily shift from Batman to Bruce Wayne.

Defeated, Bruce moved onto a different track. “How did you know I was already planning on keeping the ring on?”

Jim nodded at his hand. “You’re still wearing it.”

His heart fluttered. “Yeah,” Bruce huffed, amused, “that is kind of a giveaway, I guess. That was part of the plan, though - at least, with your permission.”

“Bruce, you don’t need my permission.” Jim dropped his hand just so he could loop his arm around his shoulders. He tugged him into his side, and Bruce went easily, closing his eyes as Jim pressed his lips to his temple. “You know how to handle media scandals better than I do. Walk me through what you’re thinking?”

“I was planning on continuing to wear it because it’s more likely to go quiet quicker,” Bruce explained. He tucked his face into the crook of Jim’s neck, right where it met his shoulder. It was a warm, comfortable place, even with the scratch of his morning stubble on his jaw. He felt safe there. “It’d be more shocking if I suddenly removed it now that it’s in the spotlight. People would talk. I thought it would be easier to ride out this initial wave and handle it as it went.”

His shoulders relaxed as Jim’s fingers found their way into his hair. “Smart,” Jim said, his voice a low rumble against his ear. 

“But,” Bruce continued, squeezing his eyes tight, “this whole situation also makes things more difficult for us.”

“In which way? There’s about fifty I can think of off the top of my head.”

Bruce snorted. “True. I was talking about seeing each other, though.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah. Not as easy with reporters camped outside my gate.” It’d be difficult to get them to move along with something like this, and Bruce didn’t particularly like the idea of demanding or asking the GCPD to make an appearance. It would only add fuel to the fire. “And if you’re wearing your ring, well. That’s game over.”

He could almost hear Jim’s frown. “Then I’ll take it off.”

“There’s still no reason for the commissioner to show up unannounced,” Bruce sighed. “Not even to tell off some excited reporters. That’s a little beneath you, I think. They’d question it.”

Jim’s chin came to rest on top of his head. “Damn it.”

“Mm.” 

Bruce went silent, determined to drink in the warmth of Jim at his side for as long as it lasted. He didn’t know yet how they were going to keep this up so easily. He wasn’t looking forward to relying on phonecalls and texts until the press died down, and even then they’d have to be careful not to draw attention all over again. Odds were, one plucky reporter from some small paper would keep watch just in case they could catch their big break.

“We’ll find a way to sneak you out later,” Bruce murmured. He didn’t like it - he didn’t want to be apart from Jim, not yet - but the sooner, the better. They’d both need to go about their lives like normal if Jim was to avoid scrutiny. Bruce could carry this on his own two shoulders for now. 

Jim snorted. “You heard Damian. The gates are swamped.”

“If I have to get you and Barbara out through Batman means, I can and I will. The press won’t see.”

There was a quiet laugh from above, and Bruce buried a smile into the folds of Jim’s shirt. He hadn’t even changed out of his pyjamas; the clothes were still soft and worn, comfortably slept in. It was only now that Bruce realised it was something he had taken for granted only a week or two ago, and even then he’d only had a handful of opportunities to deliberately cuddle up to Jim in the morning. 

There would be a way to sneak Jim in, one that would be easy and simple. It would just take a little bit of time to figure out.

* * *

Wayne Manor continued to bustle with life, but it seemed emptier than usual now. Jim and Barbara hadn’t set foot there in a couple too long days, and even Dick had vanished as well. He, however, had left to join Wally in Keystone City - which wasn’t unusual; sometimes they preferred the privacy of Wally’s apartment to Wayne Manor - but it left their dining table a little moodier than usual.

It was a quiet affair with just the five of them. Somehow, playful arguments still broke out, and Bruce met Alfred’s faintly amused stare over Damian’s head when he swore to get revenge on Jason for stealing a slice of his toast. 

Still, Bruce longed for the days when their numbers were almost doubled. For the longest time, it had been just him and Alfred in the manor, and now that their little family had grown, he was simply used to the hustle and bustle that it provided. It was only now that he had the benefit of hindsight that he realised how much he enjoyed having so many people around.

His gaze drifted towards the window as he picked at his scrambled eggs. There had to be a simple way to get Jim and Barbara easy access, one that didn’t require crossing over into Batman things. Bruce didn’t really want to snap and just sneak them in through a side door - that would still risk them being spotted - but if that was how things had to go…

Bruce was pretty good at self control, but he wasn’t sure how patient he could be.

* * *

“Mr. Wayne! Mr. Wayne!”

Bruce pointedly looked ahead as he made a beeline for the steps up to Wayne Tower. The press hemmed in around him from all sides, but they parted easily enough as he walked forwards; they were interested in getting him to talk, and they wouldn’t accomplish that if they deliberately pissed him off. 

Much to their disappointment, though, Bruce didn’t make eye contact. He breathed a sigh of relief as he started up the stairs. The door wasn’t so far now.

“Mr. Wayne, who is it you’re settling down with?”

“No comment,” he snapped. 

“Man or a woman?”

“No comment.”

“Do we know them?”

Bruce ground his teeth. _“No comment.”_

The doors to Wayne Tower pinged cheerfully at the tap of his access card, and he tried not to visibly rush inside. The cool breath from the air conditioning unit overhead washed over him, and Bruce let out a long, slow exhale as the doors closed behind him. Finally, he could get some peace. 

“Good morning, Mr. Wayne,” said a cheery voice from the main desk. The receptionist, an older woman by the name of Dot, gave him an amused smile over her glasses. “Having a little trouble this morning?”

He managed to break out a quiet chuckle. “When aren’t I in a little trouble, Dot?”

She laughed, and Bruce finally felt a piece of the weight on his shoulders fall away. It wasn’t much, not enough to completely wipe away the exhaustion already tugging him down at nine in the morning, but it was enough for now. He knew that seeing Jim was the only thing that would really free him up, and that couldn’t happen right now.

In the elevator, Bruce closed his eyes as he frowned. Of course, it was just his luck that he’d finally get to be with the man of his dreams only to be forced apart for the moment.

It had been three long days since that morning in the manor. That was three days since he’d last held Jim’s hand and pecked his cheek goodbye, reluctant as he was to do much more with Barbara in the back seat. It was now Thursday, and all Bruce had to show for their budding new relationship was their ridiculously long text conversation, filled equally with affection, jokes, and plans about their little situation.

So far, they hadn’t come up with anything new. It was the single most frustrating experience of Bruce’s life.

Once he made it to his desk, tucked away in his own corner of the building, he sunk into his chair with a heavy groan. He wished dealing with the press was as easy as dealing with criminals. Things were much simpler out in the dark, when he was beneath the cowl.

He fired off a quick text to Jim, a sweet greeting for when he started his day - which was probably soon, despite it being one of his days off - and then finally set his phone aside so he could begin working. It was a task made decidedly more difficult given he’d missed his morning coffee, both at home and from his favourite place on his way to work, but that couldn’t be helped much. He rubbed at his temple as he waited for his emails to finish pouring in, and he silently prayed to whatever deity would listen as he hoped for an easy day.

His phone buzzed on the desk. Clark’s name popped up on screen.

Temptation got the better of him. Bruce swiped his phone open and went to the text.

_Hey, Bruce. I just thought I’d check in, see if you’re okay._

Bruce plopped his chin in one hand as he rolled his eyes. He typed with his free hand, and he didn’t even grant his computer a glance as he replied. _I’m fine. I’m a big boy, Clark, I can handle a little pressure from the local newspapers._

_Really? Because everyone is going wild over how silent you’ve been._

_Is it really so shocking to discover I don’t want to discuss my private life?_

_Not really, no._

Bruce snorted. He reached out to wiggle his mouse, just to stop the computer screen from dimming. His phone vibrated again, but Bruce waited until he’d scrolled down to the first email before he checked.

_Did you really secretly get married?_

_Are you asking as a friend or as a reporter?_

_As a friend._

_Then no, I did not secretly get married._

_Then why the defensiveness?_

He shifted, somewhat uncomfortable. It was nice to unload a little, though; Clark wouldn’t dare tell another soul, not even Lois. He’d keep the secret safe for them. 

Maybe he’d been a little too hard on the kids after all.

_Because I’m trying to protect a very real relationship that I don’t want the press to find just yet. It’s too early to have that come into the spotlight._

_Ah._

_Exactly._ With that single word, Bruce put his phone down again, and he let his chair turn to face the windows behind him. 

From here, he had a spectacular view of Gotham. Sure, it was still dull and grey even in the daylight, but it was beautiful to him. It was a city of promise, something that begged to be good if only its inhabitants would let it. Of course he’d fall in love with the only other person who saw it the same way he did. 

This time, Bruce grabbed his phone as soon as he heard Clark’s text come in. _If you ever need anything, Bruce, just reach out. I can pull some strings if you need - offer an interview, edit an article a little more, whatever it is._

_For now, we’re going with the ‘Pretend it isn’t happening’ approach,_ Bruce replied. He snorted to himself as it sent - because look where that had gotten him - and then he continued with another message. _I’m sure the reporters following me to and from work will get tired eventually._

_Eventually. Probably. Maybe._

_Thank you for the ringing endorsement of reporters everywhere, Clark. You really sell your profession._

_I do try. But seriously, Bruce, give me a call if you need anything. All I ask in return is an invite to the wedding one day._

_If it survives that long, you can be my best man._

Clark sent back a laughing emoji, and Bruce could almost hear the sound of his chuckle from all the way here in Gotham. He smiled to himself despite the lingering ache in his forehead, and then swiped away from their conversation to go back to his one with Jim. Three dots had appeared at the bottom of the screen, and he left his phone unlocked as he waited for the message to come in. 

Eventually, it did, and Bruce gladly lost himself in the familiar routine of wishing each other a good morning. His irritation melted away in an instant as Jim’s presence plucked away the last of it.

God, he missed seeing him in person. He made a mental note to call later, when they would have time to switch to video instead of just audio; he wanted to see Jim’s face, his crooked and warm smile.

_So I’m guessing sneaking in at night isn’t an option?_ Jim asked.

_Probably not,_ Bruce replied. _There’s always someone still outside. I think they take shifts._ And then, because he was feeling selfish, he added, _There’s always the Batcave way in._

_And take a ride in that plane again? I think I’ve had enough of that for one lifetime._

_You’ve had two trips in it, Jim._

_Yeah, and it goes way too fast for me, even just to drop me off at home. I think I’ll stick to the ground from now on._

Bruce laughed quietly to himself, and the conversation moved on without much more prompting. Something in what Jim had said stuck with him, though, and as he sat there, staring inattentively at his computer monitor, it finally sunk in in a way that granted him an idea. It wasn’t much, and it certainly wasn’t one that would work more than a handful of times without attracting attention, but it would work to get rid of the persistent ache behind his ribs.

Sneaking in at night could work, just not at the manor.

* * *

The cape whipped around his ankles with the wind, but Bruce ignored it as he crouched on Jim’s roof. His house was in one of the nicer residential areas of Gotham, out on the edges of the city where he could get a reasonably sized backyard. There was even an old, rusted swingset at the back, most likely belonging to a younger version of Barbara. Bruce wondered if her and Dick had ever played on it together as children.

He breezed past it as he approached the back door. Maybe it was a little presumptuous of him to just show up unannounced, but he’d wanted to surprise Jim. He even had a box of chocolates tucked under his arm, and he jostled it to a more comfortable position as he knocked. The porchlight flicked on at the first sign of movement, and Bruce quickly stepped back to the edges of the weak yellow glow, just in case any idle neighbours thought to look over the fence this late at night.

It was a long few minutes before he saw any signs of life inside, and even then it was Barbara who poked her head around the door from within the living room. She frowned, wary as she peered out through the back door’s window - and then a grin broke out across her face as Bruce came forwards again to reveal himself. He waved, and she returned it before she disappeared around the doorframe again.

Finally, at long last, Jim filled the doorway. He stared hard at Bruce through the back door, his arms folded as if to scold him, but it didn’t last long; a grin broke out across his face, and he headed over to unlock the door for Bruce. 

“Get in here,” he huffed, waving him forwards. “What if someone sees you?”

“Don’t care,” Bruce said. He waited until they were safely inside, away from the windows, before he reached up to pull back the cowl. Jim’s smile widened at the sight of his bare face. “I missed you.”

“It’s barely been a week, Bruce.” Jim reached up for him anyway, still smiling; a hand came to rest on his jaw to tug him down for a slow, sweet kiss. Bruce felt himself _melt_ at the first brush, and for a good, long moment, he completely forgot where he was. He only recovered when Jim pulled away, and even then he found himself still clinging to Jim’s soft, worn t-shirt.

He pressed his forehead against Jim’s with a quiet sigh. “I know, I know. I just thought I’d surprise you with a visit. I brought chocolate, if that helps.”

Jim laughed, soft and warm. “It might sweeten up Barb so she’ll give us a minute. Are you staying?”

Bruce grimaced. “I probably shouldn’t. It’ll be harder to explain why Batman is leaving Commissioner Gordon’s house in the day than it is at night.”

“I hate when you’re right.” 

“Me, too.”

They parted just enough for Bruce to set the box of chocolates down on the counter. When he glanced past Jim into the living room, he saw that it was mysteriously empty for the moment; Barbara must have gone upstairs to give them a moment of privacy. He’d have to thank her later. 

In the end, it was only a midnight kitchen rendezvous. Bruce lingered for as long as he dared to, wary as he was of the backyard light while he was in the Batsuit and in Jim’s arms. He felt a little like a teen creeping out of the house to see his boyfriend, which he supposed he was, in a way, except he’d decided to start sneaking out at forty instead. 

He didn’t stay long. As soon as he heard the creak of the stairs under Barbara’s feet, Bruce kissed Jim’s cheek and swept the cowl back up onto his head. “I’m working on some ideas,” he promised. “I’ll figure something out so we can get back to normal soon.”

“I’ll let you know if I have any,” Jim said. He tucked his hands into the pockets of his sweats, as if to keep them occupied now that Bruce wasn’t under them any more. He already ached to press close again. “I can still send someone to chase ‘em off, you know.”

“I have lawyers that can do that for me if necessary,” Bruce chuckled. “I don’t want to draw unnecessary attention to you if I can avoid it.”

Jim sighed, shrugging a shoulder. “I know. Thought I’d offer, though.” 

“I appreciate it.” Bruce reached out for his hand again, just to squeeze it gently. “As soon as this is smoothed over, you’re coming to have dinner and spend the night.”

Jim’s eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled. “Another movie night?”

_“Dinner_ and a movie night.” 

“I’d better get an invite!” Barbara called from the living room.

Bruce couldn’t help laughing. One short moment with the Gordons, and he already felt lighter than air. “Of course you do, Babs. It wouldn’t be a family movie night without you.” He rubbed his thumb against the side of Jim’s hand one last time before he released him. “I’ll let you get back to your evening. I didn’t want to keep you long, I just…”

Jim leaned in, just to brush his lips against the exposed part of Bruce’s jaw. “I wanted to see you, too,” he murmured. “Now get going. Last thing we need is the neighbours seeing you.”

He let Bruce out into the backyard once more, and Bruce vanished back into the shadows outside the pool of light. Jim closed the door but lingered against the glass, and while Bruce knew he was invisible to the naked eye now, it still struck something in his heart to know that Jim hesitated there, waiting for him. Bruce stayed for just a beat longer than he meant to, and when he finally tore himself away, Jim still stood there, his temple resting gently against the glass.

It was predictably cold out in Gotham, particularly once Bruce made it back to his familiar rooftops and perches, but the warmth of Jim’s kitchen stayed with him.


	2. Week 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember to let me know if there's any scenes you'd like to see from another perspective! You can find me on tumblr @capedcommissioner.
> 
> Incest shippers do not interact.

In the end, Bruce’s resolve didn’t last longer than that first week. Luckily, the gaggle of reporters didn’t stick it out past Sunday either.

When Bruce woke on Monday morning, he peered out of the windows in the lobby as if by habit now, just to see what he could pick out at the end of the driveway. To his delight, he could only see one or two people lingering at the gates. Their cameras were still in hand, but it seemed like they’d finally gotten the message; he’d be surprised if they lasted the day. 

There was a spring in his step as he joined the others at the breakfast table. Jason idly flipped through TV channels, offering no more than a grunt when Bruce greeted them and took his usual seat. 

“Good morning, Bruce,” Alfred said, passing him an already full mug of coffee. “Have you seen the driveway this morning?”

“Thank you,” he said, smiling as he took the cup. “And yes, it looks much safer now. I imagine people will still approach me, but it’ll be nice to be able to use my own front gates again.”

He was interrupted by Damian’s noise of disgust. “Must you put this on, Todd?”

Bruce looked up at the TV, and while he kept his face carefully neutral, he also felt a stab of annoyance slice through his good mood. He was well aware of Jason’s taste in media, but he hadn’t expected to see gossipy  _ Good Morning, Gotham! _ right there on his own TV.

“Yep,” Jason said, popping the ‘p’. He kept hold of the remote, tucking it down between his knees as he started on his breakfast. 

Bruce shared a quick glance with Alfred before he decided to intervene. Alfred simply smiled and turned his attention back to the newspaper next to his plate. 

“Are you sure we can’t just have the morning news instead?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Jason didn’t even look at him. He munched a mouthful of bacon, and when he swallowed, he pointed his fork at the TV. “I put it on for a reason. Look.”

Bruce did, and he felt his stomach twist uncomfortably. Right there, plastered across the screen, was that damn photo that had put such a wrench in things. The hosts - a gaggle of ladies - were chatting away about it eagerly, recapping the previous week’s events for the audience. There wasn’t much to discuss, truth be told, but they seemed to enjoy Bruce’s evasiveness; they sunk their teeth into the mystery, plucking what theories they could from the little evidence the other news outlets had granted.

“I don’t see why,” Bruce grumbled, trying not to pout. 

Jason shushed him. Bruce chose to take a bite of his toast rather than tell him off.

_ “Did you hear what they found this morning?” _ one of the women said, her grin far too wide.  _ “There’s no marriage licence, which means it must be just an engagement. So, what are we thinking - a weeklong getaway for Bruce and his beau, and he took the chance to pop the question?” _

Well, it wasn’t far from the truth, Bruce supposed. He had been the one to give Jim a ring, after all, though it had been for their cover. True, his heart had raced to see it on Jim’s finger, but that was beside the point.

The other ladies all cooed and crowed appropriately, and they launched into the most obvious mystery of all: who, exactly, had captured Bruce Wayne’s heart?

“Jason,” Bruce said, frowning now. “Why?”

This time, Jason did look at him. He was scowling, and he gestured at the TV again as he said,  _ “That’s _ why, B. We can know exactly as much as they do. Did you know they’d look into the marriage licence?”

Bruce blinked. “I… No, I didn’t think about it.”

“There you go.” Triumphant, Jason tossed the remote onto the table, apparently confident enough to think nobody would steal it now. To Bruce’s pleasant surprise, they didn’t. “Sure, Clark would’ve said something if you’d asked, but I know you won’t. Shows like this love this kind of dumb shit.”

“That’s… actually pretty smart,” Tim admitted. His breakfast was forgotten as he shifted his attention entirely to the TV. “We could probably keep an eye on who they think you’re engaged to this way, too. The papers might not go with wild theories, but this...”

Jason grinned. “Thank you, Timothy.”

“Regardless,” Damian said, frowning, “the conversation is ridiculously invasive. I don’t see why it should matter so much to anyone outside of this family.”

“Neither do I,” Bruce sighed. Jason did have a good point, though, and Bruce was relieved to see that the current theories all revolved around his exes, all of them from relationships that had long since ended amicably. Jim wasn’t mentioned once. 

As the boys continued to chat amongst themselves, Alfred leaned in towards Bruce again, his eyebrows raised. “Now that the lawn is less occupied,” he said, “I trust we’ll be seeing more of Jim and Barbara again?”

He still needed to tell Jim the good news. With any luck, they could all be sat down to dinner again in the next few nights. “Hopefully,” Bruce said, grinning. “I’ll see when Jim’s free. It’ll be easier to sneak him and Barbara in through one of the other entrances now there’s only a handful of people to distract.”

On screen, the ladies cooed a final  _ “Good morning, Gotham!” _ as the show came to a close. Damian snatched the remote before anyone else could even think to reach for it, but he’d be flicking around for a while before he found something suitable to watch. Distantly, he heard Tim and Jason making their own suggestions, and Bruce decided to excuse himself from the conversation and the breakfast table by texting Jim to let him know the good news as he went to get ready for work.

* * *

“You know,” Jim said, following Bruce into a side door of Wayne Manor, “it’s been a long time since I sneaked around to see a date.”

Bruce laughed, tugging him inside with his grip on his fingers. The door led to an unused kitchen, one tucked away on the ground floor that was usually saved for big events just so Alfred didn’t have to lend out his favourite utensils to the caterers. He closed the door behind Jim, relaxing at the first secure click of the lock; it was quiet out front now - there hadn’t been a soul at the gates for a couple of days now - but he still felt the itch of the public eye like they were right there in the shadows of the unlit room.

His hands found Jim’s hips, and he eased him back against the counter as he pecked the corner of his mouth. Jim still wore his big beige coat, so Bruce slipped his hands underneath just to feel some of his body warmth through the thin material of his shirt. “We can keep sneaking around,” he offered, grinning. “The others won’t come down here. They’re all busy elsewhere.”

Jim laughed, low and warm and  _ familiar. _ Bruce’s heart flipped with delight. “Bruce, I know your house is ridiculously huge, but if you think I’m gonna do more than kiss outside of your damn  _ bedroom-” _

Bruce cut him off with another peck, smiling when he felt Jim’s chuckle buzz against his lips. Having him back in the house had filled him with a heady, intoxicating feeling, something that arousal didn’t even come close to - though that was definitely there too, waiting in the back for a more appropriate point in the evening. Right now, though, he was eager to get his hands on Jim for an entirely different reason, and that was simply just to press him as close as possible. Hell, he’d climb right on into that coat if there was room for him, too.

“I wasn’t trying to get in your pants,” Bruce murmured teasingly. “Not yet.”

Jim batted at his arm playfully, and Bruce tipped his head back to laugh. “You’re insatiable, Bruce, you know that?”

“Can you blame me? I have the most attractive man in Gotham in my kitchen.”

A blush bloomed on Jim’s cheeks, visible even in the dim light from the hallway. “We both know you’re the most attractive man in Gotham. How many magazines have called you that, exactly?”

Bruce couldn’t help himself; he brushed his lips against the pink splotch on Jim’s skin, and he was delighted by the little grumble he got in return. Jim played gruff almost all of the time, regardless of the setting, but Bruce knew he was only too eager to soak in the physical affection. They were two peas in a pod, in that way. “Too many,” he said, “and they were clearly incorrect if they’ve been ignoring you.”

“Flatterer,” Jim muttered, even as he tugged Bruce back in for another kiss. He grinned triumphantly into it.

Eventually, Bruce did force himself to pull away, but nothing could convince him to release Jim’s hand. He held on as he led him up to the usual rooms the family occupied, and it didn’t take much to find Tim, Jason, and Damian all gathered around the TV with controllers in their hands in an enchanting moment of peace. Alfred emerged from the kitchen to greet Jim with a fond smile, and Bruce’s heart thudded in his chest to the tune of these precious few seconds in the living room.

They were still missing a few members of their little family, but he could already feel the manor coming back to life.

* * *

The city was buzzing with energy, vibrating like the adrenaline in Bruce’s veins as he swung low enough to crash his boots into another drone. Below, Damian unsheathed his sword to swipe at one that had dared to swoop too close, and it fell into two neat pieces on the gravel with a heavy thunk.

Bruce grunted as he dropped to the ground next to it, and he stayed crouched as he inspected the remains. It was, admittedly, impressive handiwork; clearly, this hadn’t been an overnight project, which was, perhaps, more worrying than it had initially been. Drones weren’t an unusual thing in Gotham, especially not now civilians could get their hands on their own - he had several, in fact, both as Bruce and as Batman - but just one glance was all he needed to know it wasn’t a toy.

“So,” Damian said, coming to a halt next to Bruce, “which villain is it this week? Is this another of Dent’s attempts to branch out?”

“No,” Bruce hummed. He reached out, turning one half of the drone over to peer inside the shell. “Dent wouldn’t have the patience for work like this.”

There was a rasp as Damian slid his sword back into its sheath, and then he squatted next to Bruce, his elbows braced on his knees. As he tilted his head, his hood slipped back endearingly, and it took all Bruce had not to ruffle his hair. Damian hated it at the best of times, but Bruce always thought it was adorable.

Damian’s hand joined his on the drone’s surface, poking and prodding at the elements that had been left exposed by his blade. “Mm, you’re right. Riddler, then.”

Bruce shook his head. “Riddler likes to tease and taunt. He doesn’t attack out of nowhere.”

“He might if we interrupted his drones. They were perfectly docile until we came too close.”

“Mm.”

“Helpful as always, Batman.”

He rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t fault Damian for his teasing when he was right. Bruce slipped his hands underneath the bulk of the drone to prepare to lift it, and it was only then that he realised that the camera lens on the side - or, he supposed, what had once been the front - was still lit.

Damian neatly slammed the side of his fist into it. The glass shattered, and the light died.

“I hope you weren’t planning on bringing that back to the Batcave,” Damian said, frowning up at him. 

Bruce sighed. “I was. I’m not going to now.” He’d been hoping to analyse it, maybe take it apart and see if there were any hints hidden inside, but he didn’t dare to now; if it survived being cut in half, there might be some sort of GPS attached, and the last thing he needed was for that to point towards Wayne Manor. He was still feeling the effects of the press over the engagement ring scandal, and he wasn’t eager to give someone else any ammo.

Damian laced his fingers beneath his chin as he stared at the other half thoughtfully. “We could offer it to Commissioner Gordon. I’m sure that even the GCPD has the tools to take this apart.”

Well, he wasn’t going to turn down a chance to see Jim, even in his Batsuit. “Do you think you can carry the other half?”

“Of course I can.”

They got to their feet, tucking the metal under their arms, and Bruce was so busy adjusting his piece of the drone that he missed Damian’s sly look. “You’d better not flirt while we’re there, Batman. Going out is my escape from all of that nauseating nonsense. Between you and Nightwing when he’s with Flash-”

“That’s enough, Robin,” Bruce grumbled. Quietly, he wondered if Damian’s brothers were rubbing off too much on him; this sort of ribbing was more reminiscent of one of the others. 

“I’ll trail behind,” Damian suggested. He tucked the drone securely to his side with one hand and held his grapple gun in the other, though he didn’t launch it just yet. “I’ll give you two minutes. You’re welcome.”

Bruce levelled him with a stare, but Damian simply grinned back at him. He was  _ definitely _ spending too much time with his brothers. “I don’t need two minutes when he’s coming over on Sunday, Robin.”

Damian arched a brow at him. “I’m aware of that, but I thought you’d appreciate the chance to greet him by yourself first.”

He occupied himself with unhooking his grapple gun from his belt. Thumbing back the safety gave him all the cover he needed to look away. “I  _ would _ appreciate it. Thank you.”

“Then your two minutes starts now, Batman.”

Bruce launched himself into the air with a swish of his cape, and Damian’s laugh echoed against the buildings behind him. The sound of it made him smile; it was nice to hear him let go, to know how much it had taken Damian to get to this point. The knowledge seemed to carry him through the air as he swung from perch to perch, granting him some measure of grace even with the shape of the drone under his arm. Between one grapple and the next, he tapped at his gauntlet so Jim knew to be ready for him, and then he took off again, eager for the way the wind whipped at his cheeks.

He landed on the GCPD roof with a thud. Jim was already there, a cigarette between his fingertips; it was one of the few points of light up here, coupled only with the dull yellow bulb above the door that led to the roof. The Batsignal stayed dormant for now.

“Batman,” Jim said. The name rolled off of his tongue a touch more fondly than it had before Paradise, and the sound of it sunk into Bruce’s bones like the warm crackle of a fire. “Just you tonight?”

“Robin has the other half of this,” he said, delicately placing his piece of the drone on the wall next to the Batsignal. Once his hands were free, he strode towards Jim, determined to make use of their little time. “He’ll be here in…” He paused, tapping his gauntlet’s screen to check the time. “One minute and twenty seconds, give or take.”

Realisation spread across Jim’s face in the form of a smile, one that dissolved into a laugh. “I see. Letting us say hello first?”

Bruce tilted his head sheepishly. “That’s the idea.  _ His _ idea, by the way.”

Jim rolled his eyes and dropped his cigarette. He pressed the heel of his shoe over it to put it out. “Of course it is. That kid surprises me more every time I see him.”

“You and me both.”

Jim’s eyes swept back up to his, as warm as ever. Even here, in the dim light, they were a sweet, comforting brown, and Bruce found himself melting as he reached out to take one of Jim’s hands in his own. He  _ had _ always had a bit of a weakness for brown eyes, he thought idly.

Bruce was all too aware that there were cameras, but he also knew that they weren’t pointed this way. He leaned in to kiss Jim slow and easy for forty of those sixty seconds, and by the time they parted, he couldn’t even taste the cigarette that had been between his lips not even a minute ago. 

* * *

The mattress bounced as Jim dropped back onto it, tugging Bruce with him with a hand in his half unbuttoned shirt. Bruce went gladly, scrambling to seal his lips against Jim’s again as he settled between his parted thighs, desperate to press closer. A hot little shiver ran down his spine as he rocked down into Jim; he felt the firm press of his dick through his jeans, even with the packer mostly in the way. The way Jim reacted, shifting restlessly underneath Bruce as he made a noise into his mouth, sent a scorching blaze of fire across Bruce’s skin.

Bruce’s hand skated down his side, and his thumb brushed over his zipper. “Can I?”

“Fuck, please,” Jim huffed, tossing his head back against the mattress. “Think I’m gonna fucking burst if you don’t.”

“Well, that is kind of the idea,” Bruce said, grinning down at him. Jim rolled his eyes, and Bruce laughed quietly into the corner of his jaw as he pulled his zipper down. “What do you want?”

Jim’s fingers came to finish off the last of Bruce’s shirt buttons, and he pushed it down his shoulders. It pooled at his elbows, but he got the message; he sat back on his knees just to shrug it off, and then he descended again, hungry for another kiss. Pleasure fizzed across his skin at the first touch of Jim’s palms against his biceps, his shoulders, his back.

“Anything,” Jim murmured eventually, nipping at his bottom lip. “Fuck, anything. I’ll probably come too fast anyway.”

Bruce slipped a hand into the open flap of Jim’s jeans, relishing his heavier sigh as he cupped him through his underwear. “I can slow down. Depends on what you’d like.”

Jim cracked open his eyes. They were too close to see each other properly, so Bruce propped himself up on his hand just a little more so he could try to read Jim’s expression. “You sound like you have some suggestions,” he said.

“Maybe I do,” Bruce said, playfully evasive. “You know I’ve enjoyed everything we’ve done so far, but I was thinking...” He paused, drawing his hand out of Jim’s jeans again. He brought it to rest on his hip instead, gently squeezing for emphasis. “We have lube and condoms. We’re in my room; I have my… collection.” He raised his eyebrows. “Would you be interested in going beyond grinding and blowjobs?”

A delicious flush rose in Jim’s cheeks, but he didn’t seem to notice. He just shifted against Bruce with a barely bitten back groan, and his fingers gripped his shoulders a little tighter. “If you fucking me is on the table there, then absolutely.” 

Heat flooded Bruce’s stomach. He surged down to kiss Jim again, and he lost himself in the give and take for a moment; Jim was all movement underneath him, grasping and pulling to get Bruce flush against him. “S’been a while since I’ve done that,” Jim murmured between kisses, his words almost lost against Bruce’s lips.

“Same for me,” Bruce admitted breathlessly. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had the chance to fuck someone; any of his sexual encounters between his last serious relationship and Jim had been fleeting, more about two people getting off than anything else. He simply hadn’t wanted to bother with the hassle.

This, though, was completely worth it.

He carefully extracted himself from Jim’s grip, and as he got to his feet, he shoved his jeans down and tossed his packer onto the bedside table. “Give me a minute,” he said, leaving Jim with a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

The lube and a condom were quick enough to grab from his bedside table, but it took an embarrassing moment to untangle the straps of the harness and step into them; clearly, he’d felt lazy the last time he’d cleaned and put it all away, and he’d left it in a messy pile. He made a mental note to be kinder to his future self and not do the same this time around.

Jim wasn’t bothered by the interruption; in fact, he’d taken the chance to get rid of his shirt. He welcomed Bruce back with open arms, sliding his hands down Bruce’s hips and thumbing at the waistband of his underwear. “You keeping these on?”

“It’s more comfortable,” he said, shrugging a shoulder. “The straps dig in otherwise.”

Jim squeezed gently. “Fair. Alright, do your worst, Bruce.”

He laughed as he tugged Jim’s jeans and underwear down his hips. “Actually, I was hoping that I  _ hadn’t _ lost my touch after all this time.”

“I’ve probably lost mine,” Jim chuckled, settling back against the bed comfortably. “Fair warning, I probably won’t last once we get started.”

“Again,” Bruce said, smiling and reaching for the lube, “I can and will be slowing down.”

The bottle opened with an audible click. Jim’s gaze rested heavily on him, and it took all of Bruce’s willpower to keep himself from dropping down for another kiss. His lips still tingled with the last one, and it was only the end goal he had in mind that kept him from giving in straight away.

Instead, he poured some lube onto his fingers, rubbing it between the pads of his thumb and index as he kissed the spot in the centre of Jim’s chest. The hair there tickled his lips and rasped against his jaw, and Jim’s hand came up to rest on Bruce’s shoulder as he continued down. He eased his hand between Jim’s parted thighs as he trailed south, simply pressing against him in a light brush at first.

Jim jumped. “Sorry,” he chuckled. “It’s cold.”

Bruce laughed quietly into his thigh. “It’s fine. Let me know if you need me to slow down, though.”

Jim squeezed his shoulder. When he glanced up, there was a smile on his lips. “I appreciate it, Bruce, but at this rate I’m gonna be asking you to hurry the fuck up.”

Another lazy trickle of heat dripped down into the pool in Bruce’s stomach, even as he laughed breathily. “That’s the idea,” he said, grinning up at Jim. He turned his head to press a kiss against the side of Jim’s dick, deliberately timing it with the first slow press of his finger. Jim exhaled a breathy sound as he sunk in, and in the same movement, Bruce mouthed his way up to the head, slow and steady in more ways than one.

“Shit,” Jim hissed, fisting his hand in the sheets. He shifted, caught between Bruce’s mouth and his hand, and Bruce shuddered when Jim chose the latter. It made it easy to build up a rhythm, careful even when he wanted to move faster.

“I’m not gonna break,” Jim said a moment later, pressing towards him with a huff. “C’mon, Bruce.”

He deliberately curved his finger, searching and then  _ pressing _ when Jim sucked in a sharp breath. “Excuse me for wanting to prep you properly,” Bruce chuckled, murmuring the words against his dick.

A groan rumbled in Jim’s throat as Bruce withdrew his finger, and it trailed into another bitten off noise when he pressed deep again. “Excuse me for wanting to get laid sometime  _ tonight.” _

Bruce bit the inside of his cheek to hold back a laugh. “I didn’t know you’d be mouthy,” he teased, pulling away from Jim momentarily to add more lube to his hand. “It’s hot.”

He glanced up, and he saw Jim’s smile as it lingered on the curve of his lips. “I just like riffing off of you,” he said, rubbing his thumb against Bruce’s shoulder in a fond little circle. 

As Bruce settled on his elbows again, he kissed the inside of Jim’s thigh. “I like it, too.”

This time, he eased two fingers into Jim, slowing down again at his first harsh inhale. Bruce turned his head so he could part his lips around Jim’s dick, sliding the first inch onto his tongue for an easy distraction while he waited for Jim’s go-ahead. It came in the form of a groan a few beats later, not long after Bruce had dragged the tip of his tongue along the slit to make him shiver.

Really, Bruce would have been content to stay here. Jim was wonderfully responsive above him, one hand twisting the sheets into a creased mess while the other flexed on his shoulder. He was still just as quiet as he usually was in bed, but his soft noises came easier, like something had knocked them loose. The subtle motion of Jim’s hips, rocking back onto his fingers and then forwards into his mouth, was enough to make Bruce ache for his touch, and a little grinding against the mattress didn’t do much to sate him; the motion was nice, but there was no relief.

Three fingers came soon enough after, brought on by Jim’s breathless insistence that he was ready for more. Bruce gladly indulged him, humming around his dick as he pressed back in.

“Bruce,” Jim hissed, suddenly more urgent, and Bruce immediately stilled. His fingers flew up to his hair, holding on just to gently tug him away from his dick. “I’m gonna come if you’re not careful,  _ Jesus.” _

Reassured, he popped off with a lazy, satisfied smile. “You know, it’s almost tempting to just keep going.”

Jim shivered with the next press of Bruce’s fingers.  _ “Fuck. _ Another time?”

Bruce kissed his abdomen. “Another time. Do you need longer?”

He watched Jim’s head drop back against the bed with his sigh. From his vantage point, he could just about see the ends of Jim’s smile. “Probably. I’m having a tough time seeing why I should be patient, though.”

“I’m happy to stay down here,” Bruce promised, angling his wrist just a little more to open Jim up better. He was rewarded by a pleasant motion of Jim’s hips as he pressed back onto his fingers, and Bruce was hard pressed to see why he  _ shouldn’t _ just tease. “Just let me know when you’re ready-”

_ “Fuck, _ now,” Jim growled, hips rolling in that same desperate wave again. “Please, Bruce-”

Bruce’s resolve was on its last threads. He huffed against Jim’s bare hip, weighed down by the strength of the heat that washed through him, and then he gave in; he withdrew his hand, situated the dildo, and rolled the condom on in a few quick, eager moves. Jim’s hands skimmed clumsily over his sides, tugging him down so he could layer kisses up his jaw, closer to his mouth.

“Jim,” Bruce laughed, “give me two seconds-”

“No,” Jim said, grinning against Bruce’s cheek. Bruce dissolved into another quiet snicker as he shuffled in between Jim’s thighs, curling a hand around his knee to tug it up and around his waist. “I’ve waited long enough, come here.”

He crashed down into another kiss, and a tingle zipped down Bruce’s spine as he settled comfortably on his knees. “Jesus, you’re hot,” he huffed, dipping a hand between them to guide himself forwards. 

Jim let out a shaky exhale as Bruce pressed in. His fingers curled around Bruce’s bicep, squeezing tight even as Bruce slowed. “Don’t stop,” he breathed, craning up to catch Bruce’s lips with his own. A hot shiver of want rolled through Bruce in a wave, and he barely held back the noise that wanted to spill out of him. 

“Fuck,” Bruce hissed. His hand shifted from his dick to Jim’s hip, holding on as he moved forwards those last few inches. He stilled once his hips were pressed flush against Jim’s, burying himself in a desperate kiss. 

It was a long moment before Bruce shifted. He rocked against Jim in a gentle, testing grind, only for Jim’s reaction to leave him breathless; he gripped Bruce tighter as his head dropped back against the mattress, a gentle shiver racing across his skin. Bruce peppered kisses along his jaw, down the side of his neck, hungry to just  _ touch.  _ He could almost taste Jim’s pulse racing when he left a mark on his throat.

Jim dug his fingers into Bruce’s shoulders and squeezed with the leg around his hip, and Bruce exhaled hard as he gave his first thrust - just a few inches, just one more check. He got an eager nod and a shivery moan, and Bruce’s resolve  _ shattered. _

He caught Jim in a hungry kiss as he fucked into him, grinding hard against the harness at the end of each roll of his hips. It still wasn’t enough but it was  _ plenty _ for now, especially when he was more focused on Jim’s pleasure anyway. There was a delicious flush on Jim’s face, spreading down his throat to his chest, and Bruce delighted in dotting it with hickeys along his shoulders. Fingers threaded into Bruce’s already mussed hair, scraping against his scalp with the next quick thrust.

“Jesus Christ,” Jim groaned. His other foot dragged up the bed, planting on the mattress, and then when Bruce angled  _ just right- _

Jim tipped his head back with a softer, near  _ broken _ sound, and it punched the air out of Bruce’s lungs. He hooked Jim’s other leg around his waist, planted his elbows on either side of him, and  _ snapped _ into him, swallowing Jim’s moan with a clumsy kiss. Jim’s palm swept down to grip at his bicep again, and Bruce was certain that he was going to leave indents and he just didn’t  _ care. _

“Fuck, I’m close,” Jim murmured, his breath hitching in the middle. “Fuck, Bruce-”

Bruce braced himself on one forearm as he slipped a hand between them, taking Jim in hand. He was  _ coated _ in slick, and Bruce groaned as he rubbed a thumb over the head to spread it down his full length. He wasted no time after that, stroking him quick and twisting his wrist, his hand flying across him-

And then Jim shuddered underneath him with a low, familiar groan, his grip on Bruce tightening and relaxing in fits and starts. Come spurted between Bruce’s fingers in a sticky mess; he squeezed, slowing the drag of his hand and the pace of his hips, until Jim gave one last little shiver. Bruce let go after, dipping down to meet Jim for a slower, sweeter kiss. Jim stroked down his spine, and Bruce hummed at the touch.

“Gonna have to give me a second,” Jim said eventually, laughing a little breathlessly. His voice was low and rough, and it sent a tingle racing along Bruce’s still overheated nerves. 

“That’s fine,” Bruce chuckled. He pecked the corner of Jim’s mouth. “I’m just gonna get up to get rid of the harness.”

Jim nodded, exhaling a long breath as Bruce pulled out. He lingered for just a moment, taking in the sight of Jim relaxed and sated on the bed; another fizzle of heat settled low in his stomach, and he rushed through loosening the straps of the harness enough to toss it towards the end of the bed. Making it easy for himself didn’t have to mean doing everything right  _ that _ second.

He barely had time to settle down next to Jim before he was upon Bruce, sweeping him over onto his back. Bruce’s laugh ended up muffled by Jim’s kiss.

“Your turn,” Jim said, grinning against his jaw.

Arousal burned steadily in Bruce’s stomach, his hips, down to his toes, as Jim tugged his underwear down his thighs for him. Once he’d tossed it off of the bed, he held himself up on an elbow and brought his other hand up to his lips. Bruce swallowed hard at the dart of Jim’s tongue against the pad of his thumb, and his held breath came out in a harsh rush when Jim pressed it against the tip of his cock in a slow roll.

“Shit,” Bruce hissed, his eyes snapping shut. It was like Jim had set off fireworks behind his closed eyelids; the pressure of fucking Jim had been good, but this was  _ better _ with those images still playing in his mind’s eye.

His lips trailed down Bruce’s throat, lingering too high to nip. Bruce didn’t even need to tell him that he didn’t care about visible marks; Jim sucked at a patch of skin that would definitely be above Bruce’s collar, and all he could do was shiver and rock up into Jim’s hand as he enjoyed the sharp, pinchy pleasure of his teeth.

Jim rose up again a moment later, and Bruce could feel the way he raked his gaze down him without even opening his eyes. “Fuck,” Jim breathed, mostly to himself. And then, for both of them, he rasped, “Can I blow you?”

Bruce bit the inside of his cheek so hard it hurt.  _ “Please.” _

Jim was between his thighs in an instant, shouldering his way between them and sliding his hand to his hip instead. He dipped down, dragging the flat of his tongue up the underside of his dick, and the fireworks turned into fucking  _ supernovas. _

_ “Fuck,” _ Bruce moaned, his hand darting down to tangle in Jim’s hair, just to hold on and try to survive. He was so close already from so little, walking on the razor’s edge after the show Jim had made; just thinking about it sent pleasure ricocheting through his nerves to echo the points that touched Jim’s tongue now. He shuddered when Jim sealed his lips around him and sucked, squeezing his eyes shut in an effort to just hang on a little longer.

And then Jim hummed, and it became significantly harder. Bruce buried his free hand in the messy sheets, twisting and  _ holding. _ “Not gonna last,” he huffed, rocking up into Jim’s mouth in a filthy imitation of what they’d been doing only minutes before. Jim encouraged it with another little noise, and Bruce felt the way he loosened his jaw and curved his tongue to  _ invite _ him to continue.

“I’m-  _ Fuck, _ I’m close,” Bruce stuttered, and he forced his eyes open just so he could look down and drink in the sight of Jim between his legs, his cheeks still flushed and hollowing when he sucked, an almost  _ content _ look on his face as he bobbed with Bruce’s thrusts.

He felt his orgasm deep in his bones before it even really started. Bruce’s head thumped back against the mattress with a ragged groan as it rose, and rose, and rose - and then washed over him, leaving him shivering and grinding against Jim’s tongue as he whimpered with the force of it. His fingers didn’t seem to want to obey, because they stayed locked in Jim’s hair, holding him close as he chased the lingering aftershocks with one last shuddery thrust.

When it had passed, Bruce slumped back onto the mattress, exhausted. Jim kissed the head of his cock before he climbed back up the bed, and then he dropped down next to Bruce with a heavy, relaxed sigh. 

“Fuck,” Bruce said, huffing out a tired laugh as he ran his fingers through his own hair. “I… That was fucking amazing.”

“For the record, I still can’t feel my legs,” Jim said, rumbling with a quiet chuckle. 

Smiling, Bruce raised a still shaky hand to cup his jaw, and he drew him in to kiss him. They stayed tangled like that for a long few moments, and somewhere in there Bruce found himself rolling onto his side to wind an arm around Jim’s middle, eager to touch and map out all of the warm skin on display. Jim returned the favour in kind, thumbing past long healed injuries to find the few spots where Bruce was soft and unmarked.

The only thing that convinced Jim to follow him out of bed was the promise of a quick shower together to rinse off. Before the spray had even really warmed up, Bruce backed Jim up against the tiled walls to kiss him again, slow and indulgent and sweet. He felt Jim smile against his lips.

Fuck the press, he decided. They weren’t worth worrying about when he had this.


	3. Week 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on tumblr @capedcommissioner, and let me know in a comment if there's any scenes you'd like to see from another perspective!
> 
> Incest shippers do not interact.

The first letter came across Bruce’s desk at work.

It wasn’t unusual to get some odd mail. It was the price he paid for having such a big, obvious business, and for making such a name for himself in a multitude of ways. Normally, his secretary did a fantastic job of sorting through it for him to hand over in a separate pile - there for Bruce to peruse if he wished, but with the silent understanding that she recommended he throw it away. Nine times out of ten, that was exactly what Bruce did.

This letter, however, made it into the good pile. The fine paper was deceptive, deliberately chosen to sneak past his defences, it seemed; the writing on front was neat and simple, with nothing to separate it from any other business letter Bruce received. It was the same on the inside too, the handwriting identical even with its unusual message.

_Using the engagement to hide a real relationship? Clever, Mr. Wayne. Is it working?_

Bruce frowned down at it. He flipped the page over; the back was blank. There was no return address on the envelope, nothing to identify the sender. 

Despite his best efforts at control, he was rattled.

He laid the letter down on his desk, careful not to touch it any more than he had to. His own fingerprints were on there now, but there wasn’t much that he could do about that. It could easily be a very good guess with the express purpose of unsettling him; Bruce had been open about how not all of his relationships had been public, so maybe this was just a jab now that the press had calmed down a little bit. People could be cruel sometimes, but Bruce hadn’t really received any mail about these sorts of things before.

He could, of course, use his own tech in Lucius’ lab to analyse it. If the letter had only concerned his own wellbeing, Bruce wouldn’t have hesitated to take it down there, but the fact that the sender seemed to know about him and Jim...

Maybe he was being overly cautious, but the instinct he’d honed through years of work was pinging. He slid the letter back into its envelope, carefully held it between forefinger and thumb, and grabbed his wallet, phone, and keys.

As he left, his receptionist peered up at him from her desk. “Done already today, Mr. Wayne?”

“No, I’m just stepping out for a moment.” Bruce flashed her a reassuring smile that he didn’t quite feel. “I shouldn’t be too long.” 

Or, at least, that was what he hoped. In reality, it would be down to the GCPD.

* * *

Embarrassingly enough, his name carried some weight even in the Gotham City Police Department. Heads turned when Bruce walked in with his letter, curious cops and civilians alike raising their eyebrows when he strode towards the front desk. He chose to ignore them, and instead he locked eyes with the officer behind the window long before he splayed his hand against his side of the counter and cleared his throat.

“Yes?” the officer asked, raising her eyebrows. Renee was next to her, rifling through some papers, and she glanced up at the noise; he could feel the prickle of her gaze as she swept it over him, analysing.

Bruce leaned in and lowered his voice. “Is Commissioner Gordon around?”

He knew for a fact that Jim was on shift. He didn’t know _where,_ exactly - whether he was in his office or out in the city - but he would be accessible, hopefully.

The officer levelled him with a stare, squinting at him as if to determine whether he was genuine. Bruce pulled on his best professional mask: calm but determined, confident. He couldn’t blame her for not wanting to call the commissioner out for something she probably deemed frivolous, and for the first time Bruce wished their relationship was public just so he had a damn good reason to ask for him.

Renee leaned over, resting a hand on the officer’s arm. “It’s okay, Maggie. Go get Jim.”

Maggie shot her a look, but she pushed herself away from the desk. “If you say so. Cover the desk for me while I’m gone?”

“You got it.”

Bruce exhaled a careful sigh of relief as Maggie disappeared through a door, but all of that tension came rushing back as soon as Renee smiled at him. It was the grin of a hungry shark, one that clearly knew too much. Casually, she leaned on the desk, and she tilted her head to consider him. “So, Mr. Wayne. Are you here to see Commissioner Gordon for business or for pleasure?”

His cheeks burned. So Jim _had_ told Renee about them. “Strictly business,” he said. 

On his side of the glass, a door opened up, and Bruce felt relief swoop through his stomach when Jim peered around the corner. His gaze flicked around the room before it landed on Bruce, and he jerked his head back towards the corridor behind him. “Mr. Wayne, this way.”

“Have fun,” Renee said, and despite the fact that the letter felt like a heavy weight in his hand, Bruce rolled his eyes with some faint thread of amusement.

He followed Jim into the depths of the station, treading familiar paths that he’d walked as Batman before. It felt like every cell in his body thrummed with the desire to touch Jim as he trailed a step behind; Bruce tucked his free hand into his pocket to stop himself from reaching for Jim’s. 

“We’ll use my office,” Jim said, pausing to open the door for him. “Take a seat. I’m just gonna find someone else to join us. Do you want anything to drink? Water, coffee?”

“Coffee, please.” 

Jim nodded, and then he hesitated. He cast a quick glance up and down the corridor, and when he’d apparently confirmed it was empty enough, he murmured, “You okay?”

For him, Bruce could summon a smile. It was a small one, but it was there nonetheless. “I’m okay.”

Jim didn’t look satisfied, but then Bruce supposed that came with the territory of coming to make a report. He didn’t press, though, instead gesturing Bruce towards one of the chairs in the room before he disappeared down the corridor once more. Bruce watched him go for a moment, his chest still aching, before he stepped inside.

His office was, somehow, quintessentially Jim: neat and ordered, but with gentle edges. Bruce tried not to pry, but he noticed the organised shelves, the handwritten labels on the boxes of files, the calendar on the wall covered in notes. Right there on the desk, there was a framed photo of him and Barbara, his arm around her and bright smiles on their faces; next to it, there was another of Barbara on her own, curled up on the couch with a book in her lap, and Bruce suspected Jim had taken it while she was distracted. 

There was chatter outside the door; when it opened, Bruce sat up in his chair. “Sorry to keep you waiting, Mr. Wayne,” Jim said, leading the way. He placed a mug on the corner of the desk for Bruce, and then circled around to take his seat behind it. “This is Detective Bullock, he’s going to help with taking down the details today. I figured two was better than one.”

“Good morning, Detective,” Bruce said, offering Bullock his hand.

Bullock shook it, a sour look on his face. He looked tired, and judging by the grey circles under his eyes and the way he clung to his coffee, Bruce guessed he’d worked the night shift. “Morning, Mr. Wayne.” He grabbed the extra chair and dragged it around to the end of Jim’s desk, placing himself squarely between the two of them. “You got any paper, Jim?”

“Yeah, here.” Jim shuffled through the stacks on his desk, coming up with something for Bullock to write with. “Right, now we’re all settled, what brings you here today, Mr. Wayne?”

 _You,_ Bruce wanted to say, and that wasn’t even too far from the truth. He restrained himself, though, and he reached over Jim’s keyboard to place the envelope right in front of him. The letter was deliberately unfolded on top, ready for Jim to read. “This arrived in my mail this morning at Wayne Tower,” he said. He heard the scratch of Bullock’s pen, and he took the chance to look Jim in the eyes, hoping that his urgency bled through just enough. “It’s… a little ominous. Nothing too concerning yet, but I thought it would be a good idea to report it.”

Jim frowned at him; evidently, Bruce had hit home. He looked down, his eyes flicking across the one line of text on the page. Jim had a good poker face, but Bruce saw the moment that it sunk in; he blinked rapidly for a beat, and then pressed his lips into a thin line.

“I see. Has anyone else touched this so far?”

“No.”

“Good.”

Bullock sat up, scowling. “What does it say?”

Jim cleared his throat. “‘ _Using the engagement to hide a real relationship? Clever, Mr. Wayne. Is it working?’”_

“Huh.” Bullock tapped his chin with the end of the pen. “So you are actually seeing someone?”

Bruce carefully kept his face neutral, even though he could feel Jim’s gaze flick back to him. “Yes,” he said. “Evidently, I was hoping to keep that out of the public eye. I wouldn’t be here at all if this wasn’t threatening him, too.”

“Well,” Jim said, and Bruce could hear him choosing his words delicately as he continued, “it’s good that you did come here. If you don’t mind us holding onto this, we’ll look it over for fingerprints, see if there’s anything that we can go on. You said it was delivered just like all your other mail?”

He nodded. Now that his hands were empty, the temptation to fiddle was setting in, mostly because he itched to touch Jim but couldn’t. Bruce occupied himself with scooping up his coffee mug, carefully cradling it in his palms as he soaked in the heat; it was drizzly outside today in Gotham, and the warmth was appreciated. “Just like everything else.”

Bullock’s writing continued for a moment, and then stopped as he stabbed a period onto the page just slightly too hard. “You know, it’s probably just some weird fan mail with a shot in the dark about your partner, or someone trying to play a prank. You don’t think it’s one of your kids trying to be funny, do you?”

Bruce carefully held back the glare he wanted to shoot Bullock’s way. “No, it’s definitely not one of my children. Something like this isn’t their idea of fun.”

Jim raised a placating hand, but he did give Bullock a look. He didn’t see it anyway; he was too interested in the dregs of his coffee. “It’s probably nothing,” Jim agreed. “Just one letter isn’t much, and it’s not a direct threat so I think you and your partner will be just fine. Either way, I’ll pass this onto the forensics team and see if we can find any identifying details. Anything else you want us to note, Mr. Wayne?”

He wracked his brains, and he came up blank. “No, I think that’s it.”

If anything, he felt a little silly now for coming all the way down to the GCPD just for this. Bruce took a too large gulp of his coffee, scalding his tongue in the process, but it covered up the awkwardness he could feel rising in his chest. It wasn’t often that he was so uncertain of himself, and it was only the fact that _something_ gnawed at the back of his mind that stopped him from telling Jim and Bullock to disregard him completely.

With little else to say, Bruce left not long after. Jim escorted him to the entrance again as Bullock slunk back into the depths of the station, and Bruce felt that familiar desire to reach out and touch Jim as he stared out into the rain that had turned into a steady downpour. The waiting room was emptier now, but Renee still watched like a hawk at the desk.

“Thank you for coming in today,” Jim said quietly, _meaningfully._ “I’m sure your partner appreciates your care.”

Bruce cracked a smile. “I hope he does, Commissioner.”

Jim’s eyes twinkled. He opened up the door, holding it for Bruce. “I’ll give you a call if we find anything, Mr. Wayne. Have a good rest of your day.”

He stepped out into the open, grateful for the awning that shielded him for a moment. Briefly, Bruce turned back to nod at Jim, and the sight of him took his breath away; the yellowing light of the GCPD gave him a clear, defined silhouette, combining to put the strength and comfort in this one figure on full display. In that moment, Bruce knew just how lucky he was to have Jim.

Bruce swallowed, fighting back the urge to kiss him goodbye. “Thank you, Commissioner. You, too.”

The door clicked closed, and Jim retreated back into the station. Bruce ducked out into the rain, but he didn’t feel the chill as much; he felt warm right down to his bones without so much as a brush of their hands, and it was all down to the twinkle of the matching ring on Jim’s finger.

* * *

The rain persisted as the week wore on, and with it came wind. Bruce stood in the Batcave, still dripping rain from his cape. It puddled around his boots, and he frowned down at it. Alfred would have his head for trailing rain all over the Batcave.

He had only just emerged from the changing room - after a hot shower and a clean set of clothes - when Tim and Jason rode in on their motorbikes. The growl of the engines bounced back from the walls of the Batcave, lowering to a purr as they parked. Tim shook his hair as he dismounted, scattering droplets all over the floor, while Jason simply removed his helmet. 

“Of course you’re all warm and dry,” Jason huffed. He wrinkled his nose as he watched a drip wriggle down the creases of his jacket. “When did you get back?”

“About ten minutes ago,” Bruce replied, leaning back against the Batcomputer desk. “How was your patrol?”

“Fine,” Tim said, shrugging. He plucked his domino mask off of his face, blinking a couple of times when water dripped down his forehead. “We ran into some more of those drones you and Damian saw last week.” 

Bruce straightened up with a frown. “How many?”

“Two or three.” Tim looked a little wistful. “We couldn’t salvage any, though. It would’ve been nice to know what’s going on with them.”

“And bring that shit back here?” Jason snorted. He hooked his helmet and jacket over his bike’s handlebars, and then started for the changing room without so much as a backwards glance. “Timothy, c’mon, you know there’s GPS in there. Oldest trick in the book.”

Tim sighed as Jason closed the door. “For the record, I know,” he said, glancing at Bruce. “I just think it’d be helpful to look at them.”

“The GCPD has the remains of one,” Bruce reminded him. He hadn’t received any details on it yet, though, unfortunately. Bruce felt a little guilty for how much he had handed the GCPD in the last couple of weeks alone, both as Batman and himself, but the additional workload of the letter wasn’t exactly his fault. 

He watched as Tim went to place his staff in its spot on the weapons rack. “I could take a look if we catch one off guard in the field.”

It wasn’t a bad idea. Risky, but not awful. “If the opportunity comes up,” Bruce said, inclining his head. “Did they outright attack you both?”

“Not immediately.” Tim tugged off his gauntlets, flexing his fingers once they were free. “They just… watched us. It was weird, Bruce. It’s like they just wanted to see what we were doing, and then they attacked when Jason provoked them.” He frowned over at him. “Wasn’t that what happened with you and Damian, too?”

Bruce rubbed his chin with his thumb. The beginnings of stubble rasped against his skin. “It is. That’s… more than a little concerning.”

“Did you see any drones when you were out tonight?”

He paused. His hand shifted so he could run his fingers through his hair. “No, but that doesn’t mean they weren’t there.”

Tim looked grim. “Someone’s watching us.”

Bruce thought about the letter again, and his stomach twisted itself into a tight knot. He couldn’t disagree with Tim, not with the evidence right there in front of him, but he found himself swallowing back anything he had to say about it as Tim turned away to unclasp his cape and hang it up. After all, it could be one big coincidence; there were a lot of villains in Gotham, and it was possible that Bruce Wayne’s current problem wasn’t even caused by one of them.

Then again, this _was_ Gotham, and it was likely - no, not _likely,_ just _possible;_ Bruce was determined to stick to the facts, not speculation - that there was some crossover involved.

He just prayed that it wasn’t the case.

Bruce stood, folding his arms. “We all go out in pairs for now,” he said, giving Tim a pointed look. “Pairs _minimum._ If someone’s following us, I don’t want anyone caught off guard.”

Tim raised his hands in surrender. “Hey, I’m not the one who’ll kick up a stink. You don’t need to tell me twice. I don’t wanna fight those things by myself.”

“Good.” Bruce felt something within him settle, just a little. The biting worry wasn’t gone, not entirely, but it had retreated enough that he could think clearly. In the end, that was the most important thing; without that calm, Bruce knew he’d begin to make mistakes, and he couldn’t afford to do so. 

He made himself smile, and he hoped it came across as reassuring as he wanted it to be. “Go warm yourself up, Tim. With any luck, Jim will have some information on the drones for us soon enough.”

Tim looked doubtful, but he nodded. “Sure. Catch you later, Bruce.”

He disappeared upstairs, and Bruce watched him go. It still felt selfish to keep the idea of the letter between himself and the GCPD for now, and Bruce could only hope that he hadn’t made the wrong decision.

* * *

_“I’ve got some news about your letter.”_

“And here I thought this was a social call,” Bruce teased, slumping back onto his bed. He bounced lightly on the mattress as he kept the phone pressed to his ear, and he tried his best to ignore the way his heart jumped at the sound of Jim’s voice. The familiar excitement of hearing from his partner was laced with anxiety now, twisted together to leave a lump in his throat.

Jim chuckled on the other end of the line. He sounded tired. _“I wish,”_ he sighed. _“No fingerprints on it, other than yours that is. Nothing we can identify the sender with.”_

Bruce closed his eyes. “Of course. What about the drone?”

_“I’ve still got people picking through the remains, but I don’t think we’re gonna get anything useful from it. Robin did a pretty good job of destroying that thing.”_

He reached up to pinch his nose. “I see. Sorry about that.”

_“It’s fine. I’d prefer you two were safe.”_

“We are,” Bruce promised. “Tim and Jason ran into more of them, but they’re fine as well.”

Jim hummed thoughtfully. _“Huh. It’s odd nobody’s claimed it. Usually our bad guys don’t hesitate to brag about it. Maybe it’s someone new.”_

It didn’t feel right. There was something there, something he couldn’t quite grasp, not with such little evidence. “Maybe,” he said instead of voicing his concerns. He’d consider it later, when he had facts to back up his suspicions. “Hey, are you still coming over this weekend?”

_“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, Bruce. Don’t worry about saving dinner for me, though, I’ll eat at work.”_

“You don’t have to make excuses if you don’t want to sit at the full table,” Bruce teased. “I know everyone’s a lot to handle.”

Jim laughed, and it was instantly easier to forget about everything else. Bruce smiled to himself, wide enough that his cheeks ached. _“I’m not avoiding family dinner, I promise.”_

“It’s okay if you are. God knows I’ve wriggled out of a few.”

_“That’s not true, Bruce, and you know it.”_

He mockingly held his free hand up in surrender, even though he knew Jim couldn’t see it. “You caught me. Hey, do you want to do dinner with just us two next week? We can use our one month anniversary as an excuse.”

 _“Our one month anniversary,”_ Jim repeated. Bruce could hear the smile in his voice. _“Sure. Do I need to bring flowers?”_

“They’re not necessary, but I won’t say no.”

Jim chuckled again. _“Noted. I’ve gotta run, I’ll talk to you later. Save me a spot on the couch this weekend?”_

“Of course. Tell Babs I said hi.”

_“Will do. Night, Bruce.”_

“Night, Jim.”

He dropped his phone to the bed once the call ended, feeling rather like a teenager all over again as laid there, blushing and grinning. It was funny how Jim could still get that kind of a reaction out of him; none of Bruce’s previous relationships had felt quite like this, as pleasant and nice as they had been at the time. The last thing he wanted to do was jinx it, but he was beginning to realise just how special this was.

Bruce thumbed the ring on his finger thoughtfully, and his heart skipped a beat.

* * *

Weekends were becoming something of a ritual in the Wayne household. Movie nights had always been a staple, something they tried to keep to religiously when possible; Bruce enjoyed the feeling of settling down like a normal family, tossing snacks back and forth and playfully bickering over the movie choice. Over the years, the addition of Wally, Barbara, and now Jim had been welcome, turning the manor into a bustling hub of activity. Bruce wondered just how long it had been since Wayne Manor had housed such a large family.

Bruce took a seat on the couch with Barbara, and he watched as Wally very deliberately walked across the room at normal speed to hand out the drinks. It didn’t matter if they were sealed or not, because that simply wasn’t the problem; he’d received enough of a scolding from Alfred over how much his running scuffed the carpets to make it instinctive to turn off the speed in the manor. 

He still took a quick little step just to fling himself back onto the couch next to Dick, and Bruce pretended not to notice. 

As Dick tossed an arm around Wally’s shoulders, he glanced over at Barbara, head cocked. “When’s Jim getting here?”

“He had to stay a little late,” she said, shrugging. “It happens.”

“Said he got stuck processing some people a patrol just brought in,” Bruce added, and Barbara nodded next to him. 

Dick blinked at them, and then he grinned. “You know what we need? A family group chat. You two can’t just keep him to yourselves. Let the man be free, let him text all of us.”

Barbara tugged her phone out of her pocket. “On it now.”

Bruce puffed out a quiet, disbelieving laugh as he rubbed his forehead. Sure enough, his phone pinged on the arm of the couch a second later, and he watched the notifications pile in as Barbara added everyone. “I’m sure that won’t distract him at all. You do remember that some of us have jobs outside of being vigilantes, right?”

“Only if you’re old like you two,” Jason said, tossing a chip his way. It landed on the floor, and Titus practically vibrated at Damian’s feet. A hushed word from Damian made him stay put, but his eyes remained fixed on the same spot. 

“We’re not old,” Bruce said, mock defensive. 

“Comparatively?” Jason waved a hand around the room. “Uh, yeah, you’re both old.”

Even Damian snickered at that. Titus took his chance to snatch the chip from the floor, and Bruce didn’t stop him. 

The new group chat buzzed not long after with a predictably confused text from Jim. It was followed by another promising that he was on his way now, and a playful demand to not start the movie without him. It wasn’t likely given that Alfred was busy making several bowls of popcorn, but he took Jim’s silence after his reassurances as relief. That, or he was driving.

When he tuned back in, he realised that he hadn’t missed much. Damian had started aiming sweets at Wally, and everyone was busy giggling over the way he sprawled across both Dick and Tim to catch the increasingly difficult throws. 

“Why did I get the feet end?” Dick grumbled, playfully shoving at Wally’s ankle.

Wally snapped his teeth around another prize with a triumphant grin. Across the room, Damian laughed, carefree for once. “We’ve been dating for ten years,” Wally said, prodding Dick’s knee with a toe. “I think you can handle my feet. I didn’t wanna subject Tim to that.”

“You’re still heavy,” Tim groaned, tapping at his shoulder where it dug into his chest. “C’mon, Wally, _move.”_

He did between one blink and the next, darting upright when Damian tried to unsuccessfully sneak a throw past him. 

Eventually, after much scuffling and diving for more missed sweets, the door opened, and when Alfred backed in with two bowls of popcorn, Jim followed with a third. Bruce’s heart burst into life, and he watched as Jim’s gaze roamed around the room, greeting everyone with tired smiles and chatter. It finally came to rest on Bruce last, and the edges of his gaze softened in a way that he knew was just for him.

Barbara leaped up to hug him, and Jim dropped an arm around her to give her a squeeze. “You made it!”

“Of course I made it,” he chuckled, dropping a kiss on top of her head. “You think I was gonna miss movie night?”

“You were coming close,” Dick called, wiggling the remote in his hand with a grin. “We decided that it was all over when Alfred was done with the popcorn.”

“I’ll try to get Gotham to calm down in time next week,” Jim replied, rolling his eyes. He set down the bowl in his hand, and then shrugged off his coat as he followed Barbara. Bruce shuffled over to make room for him, and Jim plopped himself down between the two of them, pausing only to lean over and kiss his cheek. “Hey, you.”

Bruce ignored the distant sound of Damian tutting in disgust. “Hey,” he said, squeezing Jim’s hand. “How was work?”

“Eh, busy. Same as usual.” Jim settled back into the couch with a sigh, one arm behind Barbara and his other hand tangled with Bruce’s. It was a comfortable little pile, and it warmed Bruce to both see it around the room - Tim, Dick, and Wally; Jason, Damian, and Alfred - and to be _part_ of it. It soothed the part of him that craved that family dynamic, the warmth of a full house - a full _home._

Outside, the wind howled through the trees and rain pounded against the walls of the manor, but it was little more than background noise. It faded away beneath the sound of the world inside the living room, filled as it was with the chatter from both its occupants and the TV. 

For now, it was easy to forget about the letter and the drones. Bruce did so willingly, _eagerly,_ grateful for the distraction his family provided. 

Sometimes, the mind just needed space to breathe.


	4. Week 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If there's any scenes you want to see from a different POV, let me know in a comment!
> 
> Incest shippers do not interact.

Bruce woke to the comforting feeling of Jim’s arms around him and the first watery rays of the sun through his windows. It seemed like the storm had passed for now, but Bruce still closed his eyes and rolled away from the light, turning to burrow into Jim’s chest instead. 

Fingers threaded into his hair, and he nuzzled closer, a smile on his lips. “Morning.”

“Morning,” Jim murmured, his voice rumbling under Bruce’s cheek. “Sleep well?”

“Mm.” Bruce stretched, curling his toes as he sunk further into the mattress and Jim’s side. “You?”

Jim leaned in to kiss Bruce’s forehead. He could feel his smile in the tickle of his mustache. “Like a baby,” he chuckled. “Your bed is  _ amazing.” _

“You should stay in it more often,” Bruce teased, finally lifting his head just to steal a lazy kiss. He gladly stayed there for a few long moments, trailing his fingers up Jim’s wrist to rest on his shoulder. A slow, hot pulse of interest trickled down into his stomach, but Bruce was too sleepy to really acknowledge it properly.

“I’d like to,” Jim admitted when they parted. “Maybe when we’ve solved the case of your secret admirer.”

The peace cracked, but didn’t quite shatter yet. Bruce wrinkled his nose as he tucked his face back into Jim’s chest. “Or you could stay over anyway.”

Jim’s hand drifted up to cradle the back of Bruce’s neck. It was a gentle, solid,  _ warm _ weight there. “I want to. Just depends on when I’m not working too late. I don’t wanna disturb your evening.”

“If I’m not working late, you can come by whenever,” Bruce said with a shrug. He drummed his fingers on Jim’s side in a quick one-two tap. “Are you still up for our anniversary dinner?”

“Mhm. What’s your plan for it?”

Ideally, Bruce wanted to take Jim out somewhere nice, but he knew that that wasn’t an option now. It almost made him miss Paradise, in a way; there, they had been able to fly under the radar and act like a normal couple, even before they really were one. Bruce almost wished he’d made a move sooner, but then again, that wouldn’t have been possible when they’d only spent a week there in total. 

Here, in Gotham, someone would spot them instantly, whether it was press or their mystery observer. Bruce wasn’t entirely sure which option was worse.

“Something here at home,” Bruce said, tipping his head back to look up at Jim. He hadn’t put his glasses on yet; clearly, he’d woken up not long after Bruce had stirred. “I can cook for us. I’ll kick everyone else out so we can spend some time alone.”

“I don’t think you’ll have to work very hard to kick ‘em out,” Jim snorted. “You know what they’re like when we hold hands.”

Bruce laughed. “True. Is that a yes, then?”

Jim gently squeezed him around the middle. “Of course it’s a yes. You’ve got my hopes up for your cooking now, though. And here I thought Alfred just did it all for you.”

“Alfred  _ enjoys _ cooking,” Bruce said. He propped himself up on an elbow just to grin at Jim; he was thoroughly enjoying their back and forth, and judging by the smile on Jim’s face, he was too. “He only allows someone to be his sous chef very rarely. I’m actually going to have to fight to be allowed the kitchen, you know.”

“Then I appreciate the effort you’re putting in.” Jim smiled as he caught Bruce in another kiss. He pulled away a moment later, and Bruce watched with only a slight pout as he started to get dressed. 

Bruce held his head up with his palm. “You’re leaving already?”

Jim scooped up his abandoned trousers to step into them. He glanced up at Bruce, one foot in. “I’ve gotta go to work, Bruce,” he said fondly. “Not all of us can laze around in bed on a Monday morning.”

“Hm.” Bruce considered him as he buckled his belt. “I guess that makes sense, but I’d  _ really _ prefer to have you here.” The possibilities were endless: breakfast, relaxing, more sleeping, sex. They were all good options. 

“Trust me, I don’t wanna leave.” Jim paused with his shirt in his hand, leaning over to peck his cheek. “I promise I’ll stay over when we have dinner, though, if that makes up for it.  _ And _ I’ll bring flowers.”

“You  _ did _ promise me flowers,” Bruce agreed. He settled back into bed when Jim moved away to finish getting dressed, sprawling back on the mattress. Maybe it was a little unfair of him to let the sheets dip so low, but he enjoyed the way Jim’s gaze lingered. It was worth it to tease for what would, inevitably, come when Jim stayed over next. 

Jim tore his gaze away as he tucked his phone and his wallet into the pocket of his coat. “You’re not making this easy.”

Bruce smiled smugly. “You could stay. You’re the boss, after all.”

“I do actually have a meeting with the mayor,” Jim said, rolling his eyes. He circled around to Bruce’s side of the bed, dipping down to kiss him one more time. The heat in it fanned the flame of his interest from earlier, but it was over far too quickly to fully ignite. Jim’s grin told him that it had been deliberate. “Have a good day, Bruce.”

He slumped back against the pillows with a sigh. “You too, Jim.”

The door clicked shut behind Jim, and Bruce stayed in bed for just a moment longer. It was tempting to take care of what they’d started himself, but Bruce didn’t get any further than resting a hand on his stomach in consideration; instead, he hauled himself out of bed to get ready for the day, and rather than think about what would come  _ after _ their dinner, he decided to focus on the menu itself. The sooner he could plot that out, the sooner he could begin convincing Alfred to let him have the kitchen for a night.

* * *

Bruce was out with Dick when he next encountered the drones. 

The rest of the night had been easy. They had had their fair share of calls they’d helped with, both GCPD and otherwise. Everything had come off smoothly, and there wasn’t a single injury to report between them - a miracle, really, given that most nights ended with at least a bruised knee or a bumped elbow. 

For once, Bruce felt hopeful as they made the trek back to Wayne Manor. The first rays of dawn were peeking over the horizon, shining over the grim Gotham skyline as they crept higher, and it truly felt like a new day for the city. If they had had some kind of big fight with a villain, Bruce would have dared to say it was even a new start, a clean slate. It was oddly poetic.

And then he heard the buzz of a propeller. 

It was quiet at first. He glanced behind them, half expecting to see a GCPD chopper in the distance, but he couldn’t see the telltale shape of it in the gloom. 

Dick came to a stop ahead of him, landing on a roof and staring back over Bruce’s shoulder. “Batman,” he said, his voice low and firm. 

Bruce dropped down next to him with a grunt, and when he turned, his stomach twisted.

There, hovering casually behind them, was one of the mystery drones. It seemed to be alone for once, and while it didn’t lash out at them now that they were staring back, it didn’t move away either. The camera on front remained fixed on the two of them as it hovered in midair, as if it was waiting for them to continue on home.

“It’s following us,” Bruce murmured.

“It has been since we left the GCPD,” Dick replied. He watched as Dick’s hand drifted up, ready to grab one of his sticks from his back. 

Going home through normal means was out of the question now. There were other routes, of course; Bruce wasn’t worried about actually making it back to the manor. He had already plotted out a way that would only add another handful of minutes onto their travel time.

He was, however, concerned about the implication of this.

“Come on,” he said, turning to stalk towards the edge of the roof. “We’re not going to fight it. It’ll just summon more, and we’ve been up all night.”

Dick padded after him, grimacing. “I don’t like leaving it. Who knows how long it’s been tailing us?”

Bruce glanced back at it again. It had trailed behind them, almost like a curious pet. “Long enough,” he growled. He peered over the edge of the building, and found the street below relatively empty for an early morning in Gotham. 

Together, they grappled their way down, and Bruce pried up a manhole to let Dick drop down first. He followed, grimacing as he stepped onto the dryer walkway at the side; there was a door not far along, one that would open onto a set of tunnels that ran underneath Gotham, but it was still an unpleasant walk. Dick was already a few steps ahead, frowning down at the water that rushed past them to their left, and Bruce picked up the pace to catch up. 

“So,” Dick said conversationally, “I’m guessing it’s alternative exits only from now on?”

“For the time being,” Bruce said, nodding. He tapped at the screen on his gauntlet to fire off a quick message to the other four. Predictably, Tim replied with a thumbs up almost instantly and Damian acknowledged him with a short  _ ‘Yes, Father’, _ but it was too early in the day to expect a response from Jason or Barbara just yet. “It’ll be safer in the long run.”

“I know, I know. I’m just not looking forward to the smell every night. Think I’m gonna need more than one shower to get rid of it.”

Bruce chuckled quietly, and when Dick glanced at him over his shoulder, he was smiling. 

It was a long trek home this way; Bruce already missed the speed of his grapplehook as he swung from building to building. The walking made it a slow plod, even when they kept up their easy, long strides. The tunnels were too twisty, turning back on themselves every now and then, and while Bruce knew the way like the back of his hand, he hadn’t accounted for the backtracking in his time estimate. 

It had the desired effect, though. When they emerged into the Batcave, he made a beeline for the Batcomputer to check the security around the manor. Nothing had pinged the radar; the drone had been left far behind in the city.

“All clear,” he said.

“Great,” Dick called back. “Worth it, I guess, even though I stink now. I might as well just shower  _ in _ my suit.”

Bruce rolled his eyes as he locked the Batcomputer. “It’ll be fine after you wipe it down.”

“Yeah, but  _ I _ won’t. I’m showering down here, I’m not subjecting Wally to this at the asscrack of dawn.”

He couldn’t help it: he laughed. Dick grinned right along with him as he came to lean against the desk. “You message the others?” he asked, cocking his head. 

“I did on the way back,” Bruce said. He reached up to push back the cowl, breathing a sigh of relief at the cool air on his forehead. “We’re covered. Are you and Damian still going out tomorrow night?”

Dick pried his domino off of his face. He blinked up at him, his head still half bowed. “Yeah. Why?”

Bruce plucked off his gloves, carefully avoiding Dick’s gaze. “Jim’s coming over. We’re having dinner.”

_ “Oh, _ I see.” Dick’s smile was back, wide and teasing now as he wiggled his eyebrows.  _ “Dinner. _ As in,  _ no family allowed _ dinner. What’s the occasion?”

“We’ve been together for a month,” Bruce said simply. He reached for the clasp of his cape, still ignoring the way he could feel Dick’s eyes on him. “I didn’t think it’d be entirely appropriate to invite all of you along.”

Dick held up his hands. Bruce finally glanced over at him, and he was thoroughly embarrassed to see such open glee on his face. “Nope, that’s fine. I think we’ve all seen enough of you two making googly eyes at each other.”

“As if you and Wally haven’t been doing that for the past ten years,” Bruce sighed. “Excuse me for  _ speaking _ to Jim.”

“You’re excused,” Dick shot back, laughing when Bruce gave him a look. “And if you’ll excuse  _ me, _ I’m gonna shower and get some sleep.” He waved at Bruce before turning on his heel to make his way to the changing room, all before Bruce could even attempt to come up with something witty to say in return. He blamed it on the tiredness.

Eventually, Bruce found his way to bed. His hair was still wet from his shower as he sunk into his pillow, and he closed his eyes in a desperate bid to hide from the sunlight creeping around the edges of his curtains. Luckily, he was out within minutes, snoring quietly as the sun continued to rise over a new morning in Gotham.

* * *

Jim kept his promise of flowers. He appeared on the doorstep with a bunch of roses, and Bruce found his cheeks burning. 

“You didn’t have to,” Bruce said, almost shy as he accepted them. Jim leaned in to kiss his cheek, right where his blush was the hottest.

“I’m a man of my word,” Jim replied, smiling against his cheek. “Speaking of, I’m pretty sure you promised me dinner?”

Bruce laughed, and he sought out Jim’s hand to lead him upstairs. “I did,” he agreed. “It’s ready, actually, so I hope you’re hungry. How was work?”

“Eh, same as usual.” Jim trudged up the stairs after him, and then followed as as Bruce pulled him down the winding corridors to the family’s usual wing of the house. It was tucked away from the front of the manor, nice and secluded. It was late enough now that the rest of Bruce’s family would be elsewhere in the manor; they’d already eaten, and they’d taken his request to have the dining room to heart. He’d had plenty of time to set up.

Bruce beamed as he tugged Jim into the transformed dining room. One end of the table - their end - was lit by a few candles, and their dinners were safely tucked away under a couple of silver domes. Two empty glasses sat beside their plates, right next to an unopened bottle of wine. Classical music filtered through the air from the gramophone tucked in the corner.

Jim stared. “Bruce…”

“Have a seat,” he murmured, pecking his cheek. “I’m gonna put these in some water.”

He plucked an empty vase from a side table in the corner, and once he’d arranged the roses in it, he added it to the dinner set-up. Jim shrugged off his coat to lay it over the back of one of the chairs, and when he sunk into it, Bruce busied himself with pouring their wine.

“If this is how you do one month anniversaries, I’m scared to see the effort you put in for a year,” Jim teased. He rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, and Bruce let his gaze linger for just a moment; it was a good look on Jim, and he was only human.

“I haven’t planned that one out yet,” he said, rounding the table to take the seat opposite Jim. “I figured another eleven months is plenty of time to come up with something.”

He was pretty sure Jim was blushing. It was harder to tell in the low light of the candle. “I’m gonna need every fucking day of that to think of something.”

“Jim.” Bruce reached across the table to rest his hand on Jim’s. “You know I’ll appreciate anything. I just like having you around.”

His hand turned over under Bruce’s so he could squeeze his fingers. “I know. Still wanna treat you to something nice, though.”

“You’re nice,” Bruce said, as if that solved it. 

Jim laughed, and he let it go. “Alright, I’m curious. What did you make and how much did Alfred help you?”

“Steak,” Bruce said, lifting Jim’s dome for him, “and not at all.”

He was actually pretty pleased with himself. He already knew how Jim liked his steak - he had Paradise to thank for that - and from there, it had just been a matter of adding a healthy helping of vegetables and choosing a wine that would pair nicely with it. Cooking was actually fun when he was allowed to use his own kitchen, and it had been nice to stretch those limbs again to cook  _ for _ someone.

Jim leaned over the table, and Bruce met him halfway for a quick kiss. “You’re perfect,” Jim said, drawing back to point at him.  _ “Too _ fucking perfect.”

“You are.” Bruce picked up his cutlery, but he kept his eyes on Jim for the moment; he wanted to see him take the first bite of his dinner. “I’m just treating the best man in Gotham to a dinner to celebrate one month together.” 

Jim skipped the vegetables and started cutting into his steak first. “One month,” he repeated, sounding almost surprised. “Jesus. Time flies. Feels like we started out only just last week.” He popped his bite into his mouth then, and Bruce flushed all over again at his moan. “Oh, holy shit, this is amazing. You sure you didn’t ask Alfred for help?”

“Is it really so unbelievable that I can cook?” Bruce laughed.

“No. Is it surprising that you can cook this good while being Batman, a CEO, and a father all at the same time?” Jim raised his eyebrows, humour glinting behind his smile. “A little. I’m impressed.”

Bruce ducked his head with another little chuckle. “I just enjoy it. Besides, I’m sure you’re even better since you only juggle the job and being a father.”

Jim snorted. “You know, I think Babs got tired of the same meals week in, week out. I’m alright, but I don’t have the time to get fancy with it. Ask her, and you’ll know whether I’m a good cook.”

“Or,” Bruce said, smiling, “you could just cook dinner at some point.”

“Maybe when we’re not under public scrutiny,” Jim said, and they dissolved into quiet laughter together over their meal. 

The conversation flowed from there, eased by the wine and the comfort of some time alone together. This was gentler than the stolen moments in the middle of family gatherings; it was nice to just relax after the routine of waiting until they were back in Bruce’s bedroom. He loved their combined family, but Bruce did miss having the freedom to touch Jim as much as he wanted.

They lingered in the dining room long after they’d finished eating, nursing the remainder of the bottle of wine alongside their dessert. Their plates ended up stacked to one side so they could tangle their fingers together on the table; Bruce played with Jim’s ring idly, turning it this way and that as they talked. He felt Jim’s gaze drop to it during a lull, but neither of them addressed the elephant in the room.

Bruce liked to think that wearing the rings didn’t place any future expectations on them. He liked Jim quite a lot, and he wanted to give this relationship the best chance it had of flourishing into one that would  _ last. _ Nobody else had quite known him like his previous partners, even those precious few who had known Batman. He could count those two on one hand, and Selina and Talia hadn’t exactly fit his moral code as Batman entirely. 

Jim was different. He hadn’t once questioned the way he did things, not even before Paradise. Even if the law hadn’t held Jim back, Bruce was pretty sure that they would have aligned anyway.

Ending up in Bruce’s bedroom was inevitable. Bruce eased Jim back against the door with a gentle touch on his hips, and their kisses were slow and sweet. There was a lazy pulse of heat through his veins, sluggish like a thick drip of honey, but Bruce didn’t feel any rush to get down to business. Taking it slow was  _ exciting. _

Clothes trailed behind them on their way to the bed. By the time Bruce dropped down onto his back and tugged Jim over him, they were down to their underwear; the first press of their hips made him sigh with relief, and it left him smiling against Jim’s lips.

“What’re you in the mood for?” Jim murmured, bumping his nose against Bruce’s fondly. “I’m easy. I’ve had a long day, I’m just happy to be in bed with you.”

Bruce skimmed his palms down Jim’s sides with a thoughtful hum. An idea had occurred to him the other morning, not long after Jim had left for work. Usually, it was something Bruce wouldn’t even consider until later in a relationship, and even then he needed to be in just the right mood, but…

Well. He was definitely in the mood, and he trusted Jim.

He caught Jim’s hand, and as he lifted it, Jim held himself up on his other elbow to watch. Bruce felt the way his breath caught as he dragged the flat of his tongue across the pad of Jim’s first two fingers. 

“Bruce?” he murmured. His voice had dipped just a little, lowering halfway to a rumble. 

He smiled, and then he parted his lips around the tips of Jim’s fingers. He pressed them in up to the first knuckle, and he watched a delightful burst of colour bloom high on Jim’s cheeks. 

“Is that- I thought-” Jim stopped, swallowing hard enough that his throat clicked. 

Bruce gently pulled on his wrist, grinning as he eased Jim’s hand down his front. “I don’t usually go for it,” he admitted. He let go of Jim once his fingers were tucked just under the waistband of his underwear; there was a cooling trail on his abdomen, leading down to where Jim’s fingers now rested. “I… usually wait longer into a relationship before I suggest it, and even then it’s rare that I feel like it. This isn’t a thing I do very often.”

Jim’s hand shifted, dipping low enough to brush over his cock. Bruce’s breath hitched. “I remember,” he said, pressing a kiss to the corner of Bruce’s mouth. “You’re sure you want to?”

“I suggested it.” Bruce bit the inside of his cheek as he rocked up against Jim’s touch. “I definitely wouldn’t if I didn’t want to; I just don’t want to go beyond a couple of fingers. If you’re not comfortable-”

“I don’t mind either way,” Jim promised in a soft rush. “Fuck, I’d try pretty much anything with you.”

The lazy warmth turned into hot lava in his veins, and Bruce bit back a noise as Jim’s fingers slipped lower. Gently, so damn gently, he pressed just enough to tease the idea of it. His thumb swept up to brush against his cock, bumping against the side almost clumsily, but Bruce knew it was deliberate. 

“I’m sure,” Bruce breathed, biting his lip as he rolled up into Jim’s touch. He curved his palms around the shape of Jim’s shoulders to tug him down for a kiss, a pleasant little shiver rushing through him as Jim eased the tip of his finger into him. He rubbed his dick as he did, just a touch firmer than before. He dug his nails into Jim’s shoulders, humming as he shifted up against his hand.

It was just a little too dry, though, and Bruce didn’t want to be patient. He pecked Jim’s lips once before wriggling away, arching to slap the drawer of his bedside table. He came back with the little bottle of lube, and Jim accepted it without question, withdrawing his hand to drizzle some onto his fingers. Bruce took the chance to slide his underwear down his legs and off the bed, and when asked, he got rid of Jim’s, too. 

Bruce settled back on the bed again, sprawled comfortably underneath Jim. He jumped at the first touch of his fingers again - they were cold now - but relaxed under the press of his kiss and the easier slide the lube provided. He puffed out a soft breath as Jim sunk in again, smoother this time, and he let his legs part around Jim’s hips as he plastered himself against Bruce, chasing skin on skin contact as he touched him. Somehow, Jim was  _ perfect _ at this without much instruction; he knew exactly what felt good, just how much to push Bruce. 

He let his head drop back against the mattress with a soft noise as Jim withdrew. His second finger brushed against him alongside the first, and Bruce’s dick twitched. Jim’s thumb followed, and Bruce shuddered underneath him, his body rolling from the hunch of his shoulders to the way his hips twisted up into his touch.

“Shit,” Jim breathed. His dick bumped against Bruce’s thigh, and while Jim apparently hadn’t even thought about himself, a rush of want swept through Bruce at that one little thrust against his side. 

He slapped his hand into the sheets, desperate to find the bottle of lube while Jim curled his fingers and  _ pressed. _ Briefly, Bruce forgot all thought, and it was only when Jim eased off that he finally landed on the bottle. He was abruptly a little too busy kissing Jim to do much with it right then, though, so he just held onto it for a long moment as he nipped at Jim’s lower lip, hungry when he’d been lazy earlier.

Jim twitched at the click of the bottle. He didn’t break away from the kiss, though, and Bruce tried to focus his thoughts down onto the movement of his hands: pour, spread across his palm, close the lid again. It was more than a little challenging with Jim’s thumb circling the head of his dick.

At the first touch of Bruce’s hand, Jim buckled. His forehead thumped down onto Bruce’s shoulder as he groaned, and a shudder rippled down his spine as Bruce stroked him from base to tip in one long, easy motion. He got a particularly hard press of Jim’s fingers and thumb for his efforts, and for a moment, Bruce saw stars.

“Jim,” he gasped, turning to nose against Jim’s jaw. He twisted his wrist the best that he could at this angle, but he had decidedly less room to move now that Jim was pressed closer. He didn’t seem to mind, though; if anything, Jim rocked into the circle of Bruce’s fingers on his own, and  _ that _ sent a tingle of heat pooling in Bruce’s dick. It was a wonderful feedback loop, circling around and around as Jim picked up the pace, rocking his fingers into him a little quicker, a little harder. 

All it took was another quick press, another particular stroke of Jim’s thumb, and his orgasm washed over him in a sudden, surprising wave. Bruce shivered, caught between the two sensations, as he pressed his thigh against Jim’s side to hold him in place. He panted against his ear, some combination of cursing and Jim’s name spilling out of him, and when it had passed, the first shift of Jim’s hand sent aftershocks coursing along his frayed nerves.

“Jesus,” Jim breathed, his forehead pressed against Bruce’s shoulder. “Jesus  _ fucking _ Christ, Bruce. You want me to stop?”

“No,” Bruce hissed, and Jim muffled a moan against his skin.

He wasn’t sure if he could come again, but it still felt good, so he wasn’t going to complain. Jim still moved a little more cautiously, and that was fine for now; Bruce was sensitive, and he wasn’t sure that he could take anything rougher right now. The fact that he could  _ hear _ the wet noise of Jim’s fingers still made his cheeks burn, though.

On the other hand, he had other things to pay attention to. He squeezed Jim’s dick, and he felt the jerk of his hips as it knocked against his thigh.

“Not gonna last,” Jim huffed when Bruce thumbed the head.  _ “Shit, _ really not gonna last.”

Bruce just hummed and dragged his hand back down Jim’s length again. He felt all loose and warm from his orgasm, and the lingering tingles of pleasure pulled him further down into the mattress. Still, though, he felt the haze of want; it was hard not to when Jim kept making little sounds next to his ear, or when he made aborted little movements of his fingers. 

Jim raised his head just enough to kiss him, and Bruce took full advantage. He hummed against Jim’s lips and pulled out all the stops, jerking him off neat and quick now that he had room. He felt a telltale tremble in Jim’s arm as he held himself upright over Bruce, but he didn’t stumble; he just tripped over the kiss, panting Bruce’s name as he met his hand with shuddery little thrusts. 

His fingers curved, and Bruce’s eyes snapped firmly shut with a gasp. His pace faltered, but Jim’s didn’t; a whimper slipped out between Bruce’s teeth as Jim pressed harder, rubbed his thumb against his dick more deliberately, and Bruce found himself tipping over the edge for a second time. It was sharper, ripping through him in a quick burst rather than a slow wave, and it left him sucking in deep lungfuls of air in an effort to catch his breath.

Jim was only a few seconds behind him. Bruce found the brainpower to move his hand again, Jim sighed his name once more into the crook of his neck, and Bruce felt warmth pulse out in spurts over his fingers and his stomach. He squeezed and stroked Jim through it, and then dropped his hand back to the bed when Jim shifted with oversensitivity. He laid there for a moment, blinking up at the ceiling as he basked in the quiet of their shared afterglow.

At a questioning little press of Jim’s thumb, Bruce winced. “You done now?” Jim asked.

“Yeah.”

His fingers withdrew, and Jim rolled off of him and onto his side. His cheeks were still red. Bruce let his head loll to the side so he could meet his eyes, and he smiled at the sight of Jim relaxed and slumped into the bed. “You surprise me every time, you know,” Jim said, curling an arm around Bruce’s middle. “Twice?”

Bruce closed his eyes, flustered. “I… It doesn’t happen very often. I’m usually one and done.”

“Mhm. What makes the difference?”

Bruce shrugged. “Being turned on enough? Your guess is as good as mine.”

Jim propped himself up on an elbow. “So it’s not fingers?”

“Oh, no.” Bruce chuckled quietly, prying his eyes open just so he could see Jim’s face. He looked even more beautiful now, smiling playfully in the aftermath. “I don’t do that often, but I’ve done it enough to know that that’s not it.” He reached up, curving his palm against the shape of Jim’s jaw. “I think it’s just down to the moment and the person.”

Jim’s face reddened again. “Are you trying to flirt another round out of me?” he asked, playful.

Bruce laughed, dropping back against the bed once more. “Are you kidding? I’m thoroughly done for tonight after that. You’ve  _ exhausted _ me.”

“Hey, it was your idea.”

“And your execution.”

“Might as well have been,” Jim chuckled. He settled back down beside Bruce, snuggling into his side. “That’s gonna be playing in my head for a long fucking time.”

Bruce laced his fingers with Jim’s on his chest. His ring peeked over the edge of Jim’s knuckle, casting a sharp glint of light across the room thanks to the chandelier overhead. That, coupled with Jim’s words, sent a pang of deep, sincere  _ want _ ringing through his lungs.

He really, truly hoped that  _ this _ continued for a long time.


	5. Week 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If there's any scenes you want from a different perspective, let me know in a comment!
> 
> Still don't interact if you ship incest or Batcest!

The second letter came at breakfast.

It was a busy morning with such a full house. Bruce was given permission to help Alfred assemble breakfast, laying the table with plenty to pick and choose from. Jim even ended up getting roped in when Alfred excused himself to collect the mail, though he left them with the easy task of simply setting out plates and cutlery. He lost count of the amount of times he almost tripped over Titus, and in the end it took Damian calling him back to his side to make him behave.

When Alfred returned, he handed the mail over to Bruce, and only then did he sit to help himself to his food. “Mostly junk, I think, Bruce,” he said, glancing up at him. “Some invitations in there too, by the looks of things.”

“Mm.” Bruce took his seat next to Jim, and he tuned out of the conversation his partner was having with Tim for now in favour of sorting through the envelopes.

Alfred was right. For the most part, none of it needed his attention; anything particularly important would likely be waiting for him at Wayne Tower, so this was all public appearances and causes wanting his attention. Bruce set aside a few interesting looking invitations as he went, and as he reached the bottom of the pile, he froze.

The same envelope. The same handwriting. The same utter lack of anything to go on.

He reached out to rest a hand on Jim’s elbow. “Jim,” he said quietly.

Something in his voice must have drawn Jim’s attention, but unfortunately, it attracted Tim, too. Jim stiffened when he saw what Bruce was holding, and Tim peered past him to get a good look. “What is that?”

“What does it say?” Jim asked, almost toneless with how low and soft his voice was.

Bruce didn’t reply. He slit the envelope open, tilting it so Tim couldn’t see.

_ Tut, tut, Mr. Wayne. What would happen to business if the public saw you running around with Commissioner Gordon? _

Cold dread washed over Bruce from his head to his toes. It felt a lot like someone had dropped a bucket of ice water over him; his whole body felt simply  _ stuck, _ like his muscles refused to obey. Some small corner of his brain wondered how long it had been since someone had taken him off guard in this way, but the rest was too busy switching swiftly into panic mode.

One letter was a bizarre happenstance.

Two was a pattern.

Any more than that…

Jim leaned in to murmur into Bruce’s ear. He saw Tim frown over his shoulder as Jim turned away, deliberately hiding his mouth so Tim couldn’t lipread. “We need to go to the station,” Jim whispered. 

Bruce pulled back just enough to shoot him a look. “But we’ll have to tell-”

“I know.” Jim’s face was set with grim determination. “I don’t like it any more than you do, but that’s threatening your  _ business, _ not Batman. You can’t skirt it when you already made a report-”

“What’s threatening you?” Tim asked, fully twisted to face them now. 

Unfortunately, it had the effect of drawing attention from the rest of the table. There was a ripple effect, from Barbara snapping to attention opposite Jim, right down to the other end where Dick and Wally looked up. The uncomfortable fear sitting in his stomach turned, curdling into worry for everyone else. If this person was bold enough to name Jim in only the second letter, who knew what would come next? His family wasn’t exactly a secret.

“Nobody is threatening me,” Bruce said firmly. “There have just been a couple of letters, that’s all.”

“Not threatening you?” Jim repeated, incredulous. “Bruce, they  _ mentioned  _ Wayne Enterprises-”

“And you,” he pointed out, frowning right back.

Barbara’s fork clattered to her plate. “They named you, Dad?”

Jim raised a placating hand. “Sweetheart, it’s nothing to worry about.”

“So it’s nothing to worry about when it’s you,” Bruce muttered, folding the letter back into its envelope, “but when it’s me-”

“Yes,” Jim growled, “then it  _ is _ something to worry about. I’m the commissioner, this isn’t my first time being threatened.”

Bruce levelled him with a stare. “And it’s not my first time, either. Not as me  _ or _ as Batman.”

Jim’s eyebrows lifted at that, and Bruce abruptly hated himself for pulling the Batman card. Something twisted on Jim’s face, something irritated and just a little bit hurt, and Bruce was  _ furious _ with himself for putting that expression there.

“Hold on,” Jason said, sitting upright. Bruce was grateful for the distraction; he didn’t like the weird, tense electricity crackling between himself and Jim. They’d never butted heads like this before, not even when they had just been Batman and Commissioner Gordon before Paradise. It was… strange, uncomfortable. 

“So you’re telling me that you  _ knew _ about this, B, and you didn’t  _ tell _ us?” Jason asked, too cool, too calm. “You just started imposing bullshit rules for patrols-”

And Bruce’s relief crumbled like ash in the wind. “Those rules are because of the drones.”

“Which are probably connected,” Jason finished, scowling. 

“We don’t know that that’s true,” Bruce replied. He counted to ten in his head, forcing himself to stay even and collected, to be a voice of reason and fact. He wouldn’t be rattled by any of this, not when that was what his mystery sender probably wanted. He  _ refused. _

Dick stood, hands planted on the table. “That drone tried to follow us home, and now you’re receiving weird letters. You’re really trying to tell us that that’s not connected?”

“It could be two isolated incidents-”

“Bullshit,” Jason scoffed.

Bruce felt his temples throb with an oncoming headache. “Regardless, there’s no proof. However, I do need to go to the station with Jim to report this, so if you’ll excuse us.”

He stood. He hadn’t even touched his breakfast, but he wasn’t hungry now.

There was a screech of chair legs as Jim followed silently. Conversation burst into life behind the door as soon as it was closed, and Bruce tried his best to reign in his temper. He didn’t want to lose it, not with his family or with Jim on the way to the GCPD. He was better than that.

By the looks of things, Jim was in the same boat. Wordlessly, he led the way to the garage, unlocked his own car, and waited for Bruce to climb in. He kept his mouth shut as he folded himself into the passenger seat, determined to think each word through before he spoke. That ugly tension still lingered in the air, thick enough that it made it hard to breathe. Bruce almost wanted to crack a window as Jim pulled out onto the road.

It was only when Jim braked at a stoplight that Bruce finally spoke. It felt like a good, safe moment, given that Jim wasn’t focused entirely on driving. “I’m sorry,” he murmured.

Jim kept his eyes on the road, but the edges of his hard features softened. “I am, too.”

Bruce finally felt like he could exhale again. It was odd to realise that there had been a knife in his ribs only after it was gone. “I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

“You were just frustrated, I know.” Jim sighed as he moved out into traffic again. “Me, too.”

He tilted his head, pressing it against the cool window with a hum. “Frustrated, and I’m… concerned about what this means for us now. The letter isn’t shy about what it’s implying.”

“I wanna say that people will keep us a secret, but…” Jim trailed off, and Bruce was all too familiar with how that sentence ended: Jim trusted his force with his life and he wanted to think the best of them, but the price tag that the press would place on such a story would be too tempting. Secrets could only be controlled when the barest handful of people knew.

Bruce bridged the gap between them to rest his hand on Jim’s knee. “It’s okay. This doesn’t change anything for me. We’ll get through this.”

Jim’s hand laid over his for a beat. “It doesn’t change anything for me either.” He let go so he could pull into the GCPD parking lot - the staff one, Bruce realised - and then he puffed out a breath. “Let’s go face the music.”

* * *

Bruce fully expected it to be a humiliating ordeal, but while he was there, the officers kept a surprisingly straight face. Jim pulled himself off of the case the second they were in the door, and Renee filled his place in the investigation when they sat down with Bullock once more. It hadn’t occurred to him until then that Jim would no longer be able to lead this, but it made sense; he couldn’t take part in it when he had personal ties to the main person involved. It would be poor form, especially if anyone looked too closely at the Paradise mission.

There, Bruce handed over the second letter - the words were burned into his memory anyway - so the forensics team could examine it, just like they had with the first one. He didn’t expect anything to come of it. 

The uncomfortable part was, of course, confirming their relationship. Bruce felt Jim exhale a long, heavy breath before he spoke, and he saw the way Bullock stared between the two of them, his pen drooping in his hand. He was glad that Jim had thought to tell Renee sooner, though; she smoothed things over easily, breezing past it to continue with the rest of the report.

He only wished he’d had time to speak to Jim again before he was sent on his way. His last glimpse of Jim was as he stayed at the table to talk to Bullock, while Renee directed him out. Bruce glanced over his shoulder as the door closed, and he felt a stab of awkwardness settle into place under his ribs with the click of the latch.

Miraculously, Alfred was waiting outside for him in a dark, sleek car. Bruce slipped inside with a murmur of thanks.

“You should apologise,” Alfred said simply, turning them back onto the road.

“I did to Jim.” Bruce closed his eyes. “And I already planned on doing the same when I got home.”

“Good.”

Silence. Bruce rubbed at the aching spot behind his forehead. He needed to contact his PR department and give them a heads up, and he was sure that it wouldn’t go down well. They’d only just forgiven him for ignoring his call after the first story broke.

“It doesn’t do well to keep secrets, Bruce.”

“I know, Alfred. I know.”

“Then why?”

Bruce could only shrug. “Because the first letter wasn’t as targeted. I thought it would be fine, and evidently, I underestimated.”

Alfred just hummed. “The family is waiting for you in the usual living room. Barbara left shortly after you and Jim did. I imagine she’ll be looking to speak with her father.”

He wasn’t surprised. “What about Wally?”

This time, Alfred chuckled very, very quietly. It was soft enough that Bruce almost mistook it for a slightly halting breath. “Still there. Attempting to lighten the mood, as is to be expected of him.”

It was precisely that that greeted Bruce when he stepped back into the manor. Wally was in the middle of a joke, and Dick was the only one who looked close to smiling. Bruce watched as he dropped his hands instantly, looking almost sheepish, like  _ he _ was the one who had been caught doing something inappropriate. Damian in particular glared at Bruce, seemingly vibrating with his barely contained frustration, and when he opened his mouth, it was only Bruce’s raised hand that kept him from saying anything.

“I want to apologise,” he said. “I shouldn’t have hidden that from you all, not when it could affect you. I didn’t believe it was a real risk at first, and I was wrong.”

“Correct,” Damian hissed. Every fibre of his being seemed to be buzzing, almost like he was a fluffed up cat. “You didn’t trust us-”

“It wasn’t about trust,” Bruce said, cutting him off with a frown. “Of course I trust you all. Considering the first letter vaguely hinted at my relationship with Jim, however, I didn’t think it was necessary to tell you all the details.” 

Tim puffed out a breath through his nose. “Okay. But we’re involved from now on. And we’re going to look into any connections between the drones and this.” 

Jason stabbed a finger at him. “And that’s not up for discussion, B.” 

It felt strangely like he’d made a deal, when he’d come here to apologise. Bruce frowned. “Done. The rules about patrols still stand for now, though.”

“Naturally,” Damian scoffed. “As if any of us would be foolish enough to risk something like that. We’re being  _ watched.” _

“And that’s before the news about me and Jim leaks,” Bruce sighed, closing his eyes for a beat. He really, really wasn’t looking forward to it. At least he’d be able to relax whenever he saw Jim in public now. He opened his eyes again, glancing between each of them in turn. “We have eyes on us from multiple angles. Please, be careful.”

Wally patted Dick’s shoulder, grinning. “I’ll keep this one in line.”

Dick rolled his eyes. “I’ll keep  _ you _ in line,” he muttered, playfully batting at Wally’s hand.

Bruce chose to ignore it for now. He felt too sombre to appreciate the light Wally brought to their grim little family right now. “And I  _ am _ sorry,” he said. “Truly. Both for keeping secrets and for my behaviour this morning.”

He didn’t expect a resolution right away. Good communication was something that had been hard fought for in this family, and it still wasn’t always easy. He watched each of his sons consider his words, and he followed the reactions with baited breath; Dick exhaling slowly and nodding, Tim blinking and glancing away in quiet acceptance, Damian frowning slightly less.

Jason stood, crossing the room to stare Bruce down. Sometimes, it was easy to forget how much space Jason took up in a room; it wasn’t all physical bulk, but that certainly contributed to the way he could loom over Bruce of all people, even though they were close in height. He stared back impassively as Jason considered him now, though, awaiting his judgement.

“It’s a start,” Jason said eventually, and then he shouldered past Bruce to leave the room. 

And, well, he supposed he couldn’t argue with that. It certainly was a start, and it was one that Bruce intended to keep improving upon.

* * *

Somehow, Jim made it back to the manor only a couple of nights later. It was a rare thing to get him over more than once a week, and Bruce wanted to grab the opportunity with both hands. He was only too happy to retreat to his room immediately, eager to have some time alone with Jim after his last visit; while it had only been two days, the fact that they had left things so awkwardly after reporting the letter had made Bruce uneasy.

He sunk into the squishy couch in his room, and Jim folded in against his side. Bruce buried his nose into his temple with a sigh, and his fingers crept up into Jim’s hair. Once Jim’s arm was around his middle, Bruce finally felt like things had settled back into place.

“No fingerprints again,” Jim murmured into his chest. 

Bruce hummed. “I figured.”

Jim let out a long, slow exhale as he nodded. “Yeah. Not surprising.”

They lapsed into silence again, but this time it felt much more comfortable. Bruce closed his eyes, relishing the feeling of having Jim tucked in under his arm. 

“I’m still sorry,” he murmured.

Jim gently squeezed him. “I know. I am, too. But, hey, look at it this way.” He sat up, and Bruce let his hand drop to rest on Jim’s shoulder as he raised his head. There was a smile on his lips, and it was infectious; Bruce found himself mirroring it before he even really felt it. “We did pretty good for that being our first argument, if you could even call it that.”

Bruce puffed out a soft laugh. “True. Look at us, we’re still apologising days later.”

“That part could probably use some work, but I prefer it to still being at each other’s throats,” Jim admitted. His hand came up to cup Bruce’s cheek, his thumb brushing against it in smooth, gentle rubs. “I think we’re better off putting it behind us now, though. Wanna watch a movie?”

There was plenty that Bruce still wanted to discuss - namely, what they’d do once their relationship finally made it into the public eye - but the words died on his tongue. He’d missed Jim, even in just those two awkward days. He was so used to having him at his side now that it had felt like missing a limb just to have such stilted conversations again, like they didn’t have weeks of history now. 

The ring on his finger felt suddenly heavy, as if to remind Bruce of what it represented. One month in, and he could already see this lasting.

“Yeah,” Bruce said, smiling. “What did you have in mind?”

“Something easy,” Jim said, reaching for his TV remote on the coffee table. “I don’t have the brainpower for anything complicated after this week, Christ.”

“It’s not over yet,” Bruce reminded him, slinging his arm more comfortably around Jim’s shoulders.

He groaned, slumping back into the couch. “Don’t remind me. Are we placing bets on how long it takes for this to get out?”

“I’d like to have faith in your officers, but…” Bruce winced. “I don’t think it’ll last the working week. Friday at the latest.”

Jim switched on the TV, grimacing. “Knowing my department, I give it until Thursday.”

* * *

It took a grand total of four days for the news to break.

Bruce woke up on Friday morning to find his phone buzzing with texts, emails, and a call from his PR team. Jim grumbled into the pillow on the other side of the bed as Bruce extricated himself from his arms, but he followed him only a handful of seconds later, propping himself up on an elbow to grab his glasses and peer down at his screen.

“Thursday night,” Jim sighed. “Guess I win, then.”

“Congrats,” Bruce said dryly. 

Jim sunk back into the pillows with a sigh. “I thought I knew my officers better than that. If I find out who fucking leaked this-”

Bruce reached over, lacing his fingers with Jim’s when he found them. “It’s fine,” he promised, squeezing. “It was going to get out eventually one way or another. If it hadn’t happened because of something like this, someone would have seen us eventually.” He glanced over at him, and his heart clenched when he saw the way Jim frowned down at his phone. “Hey. We can always deny it if you’re not ready for this to come out.”

“It’s official police documents, Bruce,” he sighed, reaching up to rub at his forehead. “There’s no getting around that. Besides, that’s not what’s giving me a headache at nine in the goddamn morning.”

He scooted over to Jim’s side of the bed, tugging him closer. “What is it?”

Jim grimaced. “They think we’re engaged, Bruce. Your ring, now this...”

His whole world tilted, just a little bit. “Ah.”

“Yeah.” 

Bruce closed his eyes as he buried his face in Jim’s hair. “Shit.”

“Yep.” Jim popped the ‘p’ sound. Bruce puffed out a soft little laugh. “Well, it’s a little late now. We can’t exactly take the rings off, or they’ll look into it more. You said it yourself at the start of all of this.”

Bruce couldn’t exactly deny it, not when it was true. He really, really regretted not removing his ring sooner now, though. So much could have been avoided if he hadn’t made such a simple mistake.

“What do you want to do?” Bruce asked. He bumped his nose against Jim’s head, gentle and fond. “It’s my fault we’re in this mess, we can handle this however you’d like. Whatever makes you the most comfortable.”

Jim was silent for a moment, fiddling with Bruce’s fingers as he thought. Bruce gave him all the time he needed, occupying himself with staring out at the dull light filtering through his curtains and ignoring the near constant buzz of his phone. Really, it was a miracle that one of the boys hadn’t knocked at his door yet.

“Honesty is the best policy,” Jim sighed. “If it’s out there anyway, I don’t wanna lie. That’ll just come back to bite us in the end.”

Bruce’s heart did an odd little flutter. Did Jim see the same future ahead of them? “Honest it is then,” he said, brushing his thumb against Jim’s. “What about the engagement part? Are we being completely honest about that, or…?”

To his surprise, Jim laughed. “Nah. Let them think what they want. They don’t get to hear every little thing about our relationship.” 

Bruce chuckled into Jim’s hair. “And here I thought you’d want to get rid of the rings and let the full truth come out.”

“Put it this way,” Jim said, “if they think we’re engaged, maybe there’ll be less scrutiny over your involvement with the GCPD, business or otherwise. That’ll look more serious. One month will lead right back to Paradise.” 

It was a smart point, one that Bruce couldn’t fault. If it got out that it was a lie all along then there would be hell to pay, that was for sure; they wouldn’t be able to avoid trial by public opinion. Bruce just hoped that it wouldn’t come to that.

On the other hand, he wondered if that was what their mystery sender had intended all along: to humiliate two of the more powerful men in Gotham, to shatter what little peace he and Jim managed to bring to the table whether the city wanted it or not. It was an uneasy thought, and unfortunately it stuck to the back of Bruce’s mind, burrowing in to make a home there.

“I can make us an appointment with my PR team,” Bruce offered, finally unlocking his phone to check their urgent messages. “I’m sure they’d want to discuss strategy with both of us.”

_ “Strategy,” _ Jim repeated, puffing the word out. “Sure, why not.”

Bruce pecked his cheek. “I’ll buy us breakfast on the way since we don’t need to hide now.”

“Alright, you’re winning me over.” Jim’s nose knocked lightly against his on his way over to kiss him. “Make it a coffee and a pastry, and you’ve got yourself a deal.”

* * *

The normalcy of a family movie night was a welcome thought, but of course even that couldn’t go to plan. 

The press release from Wayne Enterprises was due to go out on Monday after a little collaboration with the GCPD’s team to smooth out the edges; Bruce felt a little like a schoolchild, particularly one that was in trouble, even though he and Jim were grown adults who were more than capable of making their own decisions. They had weathered critical looks when they’d explained their choice to be so bold and public, but it was written now, and the only thing that would convince Bruce to call it back would be Jim himself.

Somehow, though, Damian was the one most bothered by the way the media was handling the new information about Bruce Wayne’s secret partner. The story was plastered anywhere Bruce looked, so he’d simply taken to leaving social media alone for the weekend in the hope that it would all blow over. 

Naturally, Damian disagreed.

“Father, look at the lies they’re spreading about you,” he growled, thrusting his phone towards Bruce. The others bustled around in the background, making themselves comfortable on the couch. Dick and Barbara didn’t seem to notice, busy as they were bickering over what kind of popcorn to make. Wally was absent this week, so they had made it their mission to steal as many blankets as possible for their couch; Wally ran too hot to be too wrapped up for very long, but Bruce knew that Dick was greedy when it came to burrowing into a nest like that.

Bruce blinked, leaning back just a little to better see the screen. The headline for the article seemed to imply some sort of beneficial relationship between him and Jim, one that involved money. He fought back the desire to wrinkle his nose, and instead he bundled Damian into his side even as his son squirmed. “It’s fine, Damian,” he promised.

“You should have their heads,” Damian hissed. Bruce was, once again, forcefully reminded of a tiny, angry kitten. “Sue them for every penny they have if they’re going to  _ slander _ you like this.”

He ran his fingers through Damian’s hair. It was a dangerous thing at the best of times, but tonight, Damian allowed it. “It’ll be okay,” he repeated, ruffling his hair. “No need to make a move for anyone’s heads, Damian.”

“Father, they’re making your relationship with Gordon out to be something  _ indecent!” _

“And we’ll be clearing that up on Monday,” he assured him. He ignored Jason’s snort from across the room. Tim elbowed him.

It was touching to know that Damian thought so highly of their relationship, though; at least, that must have been the case for him to defend them both so desperately. All four of the boys had been more than happy to welcome Jim in as another one of their family, but Damian had predictably been the most difficult to gauge so far. 

Damian sniffed, sinking down into the cushions as he folded his arms. “And you’ll have plenty of reasons to hunt them all down by then, I’m sure. Why has Kent not intervened on your behalf?” 

“Because I didn’t ask him to.” Bruce rolled his eyes. “I appreciate your concern, though, Damian. Thank you.”

“They’re besmirching the Wayne name,” Damian muttered under his breath. 

Bruce patted his shoulder fondly. “We’ll recover, I’m sure.”

The group chat pinged with a message from Jim -  _ Just pulling up _ \- and the room became downright businesslike. Snacks seemed to materialise on the table, brought through by Alfred and Dick when he hopped up to help, and Jason bickered with Barbara and Tim over the movie choice. Damian kept Bruce grounded, even as he continued to grumble under his breath.

Jim let himself in as he always did these days, but when Bruce looked up at him to smile, it died on his lips; there was a grim look on Jim’s face as he made a beeline for Bruce. He stopped next to the arm of the couch to offer Bruce another fucking envelope. 

“This was outside,” Jim said, gruff. “Stuck to the door.”

Damian stiffened next to him. “Another?”

Jim grimaced. “Another.”

Bruce took it, careful to control the wave of fear flooding his system. Before, it had been easy to hold back; now, with the third letter and a pattern established, it felt much more serious, much more terrifying. There was a big difference between slipping something into the mail and brazenly slapping it onto the door. He almost wanted to sprint down to the Batcave and pull up the security footage to see what hints he could find. Surely there would be  _ something. _

The room had fallen silent. One of the couches creaked as someone stood, and then Jason appeared behind Jim. His face was carefully neutral. “What does it say?”

“I’m opening it now,” Bruce murmured, tucking his nail under the flap. Just like every other time, there was a single piece of paper folded inside, except this time, his family gathered as he flattened it out on his knees.

_ Are you any closer to figuring out who I am? I know you’re trying, Mr. Wayne. Would you like a hint, or are you enjoying the game? _


	6. Week 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on tumblr @capedcommissioner! And if there's any scenes you want to see from an alternate POV, let me know in a comment!
> 
> Note: Batcest/incest shippers do not interact.

“Well, would you look at that.” 

Bruce glanced up from the tablet in his hands to see Jason stood at the Batcomputer. His hands were splayed on the desk as he stared up at the wide monitor, leaning towards it in a way that must have been uncomfortable for his eyes - but, then again, there were a lot of things that Jason could shrug off that others couldn’t these days. The need for a full night’s sleep was just one point on that list, and Bruce supposed eyestrain was up there, too.

He rolled his chair closer to the desk, frowning. “What is it?”

Tim appeared at Jason’s other shoulder, as quiet as a whisper. “Well,” he said, “that’s pretty damn weird.”

Bruce’s gaze flicked to him as he peered up at the screen, and then he did a double take when he saw the pale blue, too big hoodie Tim was wearing. It was rolled up a little at the sleeves to free his hands, but it sagged just slightly at the shoulders, and the neck dipped down a little lower than Tim typically liked. From this angle, Bruce could see just enough of the title across the chest to know it read ‘ _ Metropolis University’. _

He frowned. “When did you get a MU hoodie?”

Tim’s shoulders jumped up to his ears. The hood did a fantastic job at hiding his face for him. “I borrowed it from Kon,” he muttered. 

Bruce was pretty sure he didn’t remember Kon visiting in the past few weeks - he certainly made his presence known whenever he was in Gotham, as loud as he was - so he wondered just how long that hoodie had been sitting in Tim’s room. It certainly looked comfortably worn.

Jason shot Tim a look, and then gave him a playful, toothy grin. “Oh, so you’re  _ borrowing _ from him now, huh?”

He was beginning to have the distinct feeling that he’d missed something. Tim glared at Jason, but there was no real heat behind it - or maybe that was just down to his blush. “Shut  _ up.” _

“Is there anything I should know?” Bruce asked carefully.

Tim shoved his hands into the hoodie’s pocket and simply avoided his gaze. “No. What were you looking at, Jason?”

Bruce let it go, albeit somewhat reluctantly. Would it be too overbearing of him if he messaged Clark to see if he knew anything? He filed the thought away for later, and instead turned to the Batcomputer as Jason gestured up at the feed on the display. 

It was the front door to Wayne Manor, lit in shades of green thanks to the night vision. Bruce had a similar picture open already on the tablet in his lap, but it looked like Jason had beaten him to finding the exact time they were after; according to the timestamp in the corner, he’d already scrubbed through it and found what he was looking for. It was only a few short minutes before Jim had arrived that night.

Jason pressed play.

For a few seconds, the only movement came in the form of the trees waving in the gentle wind. Bruce planted his elbow on the arm of his chair and dropped his chin into his hand, frowning.

One of the drones hummed into frame. It went straight to the door, and it hovered there as an arm on the underside unfolded to slap the envelope to the door. Then, in a slow, deliberate movement, it turned towards the security camera pointed directly at it, and  _ waved _ that arm before it zoomed away again. Jason left the video running, but all that followed was Jim’s arrival and subsequent discovery of the letter.

Bruce leaned back in his seat, thumbing his jaw. “You were right, Jason. The drones are connected.”

Jason turned and hopped up onto the desk to perch there. “Lucky me,” he said dryly. “What do I win?”

Tim rolled his eyes. “Rights to saying ‘I told you so’?”

“Do I get a say in that at all?” Bruce asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Nope,” Jason said, swinging his legs. “Which, by the way, I told you so, B.”

Tim laughed, and Bruce exhaled a soft chuckle of his own. He couldn’t really be mad, not when he’d overlooked it in the first place, but his good humour didn’t last long. 

Bruce rolled his chair over to the Batcomputer’s keyboard, but he didn’t even know where to start. His fingers thought for him, tapping across the keys to bring up the other security systems. He navigated them through muscle memory alone, pulling up reports all centred around that same feed. “If it’s connected, then this could be much worse than we originally thought.”

Jason scooted over to give him more room, twisting to look up at the monitor over his shoulder. “What do you mean?”

“The drone made it past our security without tripping any alarms,” Bruce said, nodding up at the screen. Some of the reports were still processing, but judging by the clean records from the others, he already knew what he’d find. “And that’s not even counting the fact that the drones have been following us around Gotham.”

Silence. He could have heard a pin drop. 

“They know,” Tim murmured.

“No,” Jason growled. “Not possible.”

The last report popped up. Nothing. “It’s entirely possible,” Bruce said, bowing his head to pinch the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know  _ how, _ but…”

The evidence was piling up at last. He’d ignored and ignored his instinct until it was too late, and now the facts came washing in on a flood. He’d played defensively when he should have put them all on the offence; if they’d tried harder, hunted sooner, then maybe their identities wouldn’t have been at risk.

Had the drones ever followed them back to Wayne Manor? Or did the sender assume that Bruce Wayne and Batman were two separate players in their game?

Bruce forced himself to breathe out in one long exhale. “It’s possible, but we don’t know for certain yet. If we continue with our current precautions-”

“What and we hope for the best?” Jason spat. 

“No. We  _ play _ at our best.” Bruce slid the tablet back onto the desk, and then let his hands move to the keyboard. He needed to figure out where the hole in his security was, and that was probably going to take all day. The thought of calling out of work made his stomach turn - it was only going to draw more attention - but he couldn’t justify leaving right now. 

“Tonight,” Bruce continued, “we’re going to hunt down one of those drones and take it apart. We’ll do it out in Gotham, away from home.” He glanced over at the both of them. “I’d like you two to come with me.”

Tim tugged at the hoodie strings, fidgeting. “What about the others?”

“If Barbara’s out, she’s welcome to join us,” Bruce said, shrugging. “I don’t want all of us out together, though. As much as I’d like everyone’s eyes on the situation, it’d be too obvious for us to leap to the defence of the Waynes. Dick and Damian can work from the Batcomputer instead.” He paused, grimacing, and then added, “Tim, could you help me review the security systems? It’ll go much quicker with two of us.”

Jason moved out of the way as Tim pulled up another chair. As he sat, he tapped at a button in the desk and another keyboard folded out to let him hop in alongside Bruce. “Jason,” Bruce added, “could you pass the plan onto everyone upstairs?”

“You got it, B.” He sounded quiet, thoughtful, but he pushed off from the desk to leave them to it. His footsteps on the stairs faded, thunking solidly and then more softly, and then all Bruce could hear was the desperate tap of his and Tim’s fingers on the keys. It was oddly soothing in its familiarity.

* * *

Bruce grunted as he hit the solid, flat surface of the roof, tipping into a roll in an effort to lessen the impact. The damage to his shoulder was done - it would no doubt bruise later - but it was worth it for the drone that struggled in his arms, whirring and vibrating in a desperate attempt to get away. He grabbed the arm on the bottom before it could get at him first, and he pinned it to the roof as he used his weight to hold the thing down.

Three sets of boots rushed up to meet him. Jason was the first, squatting in front of Bruce to stab the blade of a knife into the camera on the front. The drone twitched, and then it fell still.

_ “Good work,” _ Dick said over the comms.  _ “Let’s open this bad boy up.” _

Hesitantly, Bruce shifted off of the drone. He didn’t trust that it was entirely dead; he and Damian had been fooled before, after all. He pressed down on the circles of metal around the propellors just in case.

“Got your tools, Red?” Jason asked.

Tim plucked a bag off of his hip as he crouched next to him. “Right here. Batgirl, can you help me with this?”

“Right here.” Barbara settled in opposite Tim, her mouth set in a grim line. He handed her a screwdriver, and they went to work.

Piece by piece, the shell of the drone came apart. Once it was scattered to one side, they paused, and Bruce risked tapping a button on the side of his cowl to direct his feed to a separate screen back home for Dick and Damian. “Scan the drone,” he said. “Make sure we won’t get any nasty surprises.”

_ “On it,” _ Dick said.  _ “Give me a minute.” _

He could feel Jason watching him from the other side. They were both there as muscle, bowing to Tim and Barbara so they could work their tech magic, and yet they were ready to follow along when Dick gave them permission to go further. Jason knew just as much as any of the others, but his ability to be quick and brutal was much more valuable here; if other drones arrived, they needed to be gone as quickly as possible.

_ “It’s clear,” _ Damian said.  _ “There’s some kind of contraption inside, but it doesn’t seem to be armed.” _

_ “Be careful,” _ Dick added.

“When are we not?” Barbara asked, drawing a quiet laugh from them all. 

It was slow work. Tim and Barbara took their time prying the drone apart, checking and double checking each component as it fell away. Bruce’s arms began to ache from the angle of holding down the lifeless drone, but he didn’t dare let up for even a second. 

_ “There it is,” _ Damian said after a little while.  _ “The strange thing on the scan.” _

“This?” Tim asked, poking at the corner of something.

_ “Yes. Be careful.” _

Tim frowned around his domino mask. He used the end of his screwdriver to knock a panel out of the way. And underneath…

Well, even Bruce couldn’t make sense of it.

The only thing that had connected it to the rest of the drone was one singular ribbon cable that had slipped underneath the panel. It ended at what looked oddly like a tiny safe, and now the door was open a crack. Bruce tilted his head to peer inside, and all he saw was a slip of paper.

“I’ve got it,” Barbara said, darting forwards to snatch it between two fingers. She skimmed it, and then wrinkled her nose in disgust. “God, I’ve never read anything so slimy in my life.”

“Are you gonna share with the class?” Jason asked, head cocked.

She rolled her eyes, but obliged. “ _ You’ll have to try harder than that to figure out who I am! Did you really think I would make it easy and leave a hint in here? Please, I’m not nearly as clumsy as Two-Face - use your brain, detective.” _

_ “That’s not true, though,” _ Dick hummed.  _ “The note itself is a hint. We can work with this.” _

_ “My money is still on Riddler,” _ Damian sniffed. 

“We’ll discuss possibilities when we get back,” Bruce said firmly. “For now, let’s finish disassembling this so we can dispose of it.”

Tim saluted him with his screwdriver. “Aye, aye, captain.”

* * *

The rest of the drone was exactly as they expected. There were no further surprises, nothing that stood out. Barbara placed the note carefully on the desk by the Batcomputer’s keyboard, and as Bruce pushed back the cowl, Damian planted his hands on his hips and glared at him. “I think it’s Riddler.”

“And I thought we spoke about not jumping to conclusions,” Bruce sighed, rubbing at his tired eyes. 

“Could be Joker,” Jason suggested, shrugging as he passed. 

“Or,” Dick said, leaning against the desk, “maybe it’s someone new trying to throw us off. Anyone can watch the usual villains and try to copy them to hide if they want to.”

Bruce could only hum in response. He felt weary right down to his bones, aching in a way that promised that he would crash as soon as he hit the pillow. There was a part of him that desperately wanted to call Jim just to hear his voice, but there was no way he’d be awake at such an early hour on his day off. 

Tim placed a hand on his shoulder. “Go get some rest,” he said. “We’ll talk things over.”

“No, I’m fine.” Bruce sunk into a chair, grateful for the way it took the weight off his feet. “I’m here. I’ll go to bed when we all do.”

That time came not long after. The conversation wasn’t the most constructive they’d ever had; with so little to go on, that left them analysing the phrasing in the letters and the note instead, and Dick wasn’t wrong about how easy it would be for someone to emulate an existing suspect. It had happened before - Clayface, for example, when he sometimes felt a little more creative - so it was entirely possible that it was happening again.

One thing was undeniable, however: the sender was smart. They had figured out Jim’s identity, and they knew how to work with technology. 

The same thoughts circled Bruce’s mind as he stood in his shower, his forehead pressed against the tile wall. Hot water cascaded down his back, but it did nothing to soothe his sore muscles or the ache in his shoulder from his earlier tumble. He simply slumped there, exhausted, until the white noise of the shower finally quieted his thoughts and gave him a moment of peace.

* * *

“You look like shit.”

Bruce snorted. “Thanks, Jim.”

He sunk further down into the passenger seat of Jim’s car, cradling the paper cup of coffee he’d given him. They were in the parking lot beneath Wayne Enterprises, safely tucked away from the public eye; a few members of his staff glanced his way as they left their vehicles, but they did no more than offer a polite wave on their way to the elevator. It was a relief to know that his employees respected his privacy even when the rest of the city didn’t.

One of Jim’s hands came over to squeeze Bruce’s knee, and he laid his own on top of it. “I say that with utmost affection, of course,” he added, smiling, and that familiar twinkle was enough to make Bruce chuckle into the foam lid of his cup.

“Of course,” he agreed, wiggling his fingers to slot them in between Jim’s. “Thank you for this, though. I don’t think I’d survive if you hadn’t brought lunch.”

Jim shrugged as he drained the last of his coffee. He reached down to tuck the empty cup in the plastic bag at his feet, and then settled back against his seat. “Well, I figured coming to visit down here was less scandalous than going up to your office, and I wanted to see you.”

Bruce felt a small smile creeping its way across his lips. “Oh, I think we’re well past causing a scandal. That press release just set the papers off again.”

“Christ, don’t I know it.” Jim’s head dropped back against his seat as he sighed. “Be glad you don’t have to go any further into the station for your reports. It’s brutal back there. I walk past and people sling quotes at me.”

Bruce winced. “Ouch. If it helps, on my way into work this morning there was someone waiting at the reception desk for me.”

Jim raised an eyebrow. “What happened?”

“My receptionist kicked them out.” Bruce took a gulp of his coffee, relishing in the burn on his tongue as he swallowed. “Dot isn’t to be trifled with.”

“She doesn’t look that scary,” Jim said.

“Try sneaking past her,” Bruce shot back, grinning, “and then say that again.”

Jim laughed, and the warmth of the sound filtered into the dark corners that the coffee couldn’t reach. It felt good just to sit in a car with him and talk; here, it felt like they were in a bubble, tucked away from the rest of the world. Bruce felt  _ safe _ with Jim in a way that was becoming increasingly rare these days.

He smiled over at Jim, and his heart beat three words into his ribs that he didn’t quite want to say yet.

“Any chance I can convince you to come over later?” he asked.

“Don’t think it’s likely for tonight,” Jim sighed. He rubbed circles against the side of Bruce’s hand with his thumb, his lips pursing as he thought. “Maybe later this week, though, if you’re still doing movie night.”

“Put it this way: Wally gets here in a couple days, so movie night is basically law.”

Jim chuckled again, shaking his head. “Then I guess I’m coming over.”

The sound of Jim’s phone ringing interrupted them, and Bruce reluctantly released him so he could fish it out of his pocket. The grimace on Jim’s face said it all; he had to go back to work, and the sooner the better.

“Sorry,” he murmured, leaning over to steal a quick kiss. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“No need.” Bruce pecked the corner of his mouth before he drew away again. “I’ll talk to you later. Stay safe.”

Jim offered him another smile, this one gentler and full of affection. “You, too.”

Bruce slipped out of the car with his coffee, and he closed the door as quietly as he could as Jim picked up the call. He headed over to the elevator to wait for it to collect him, and he watched as Jim pulled away to make the short drive back to the GCPD. The lift pinged for him before Jim had fully disappeared up the ramp, and Bruce let his gaze linger for just a moment before he stepped inside.

* * *

Wally arriving at Wayne Manor was always an event. Where Barry was composed, Wally was relaxed and impatient, and he was a whirlwind even at human speed. Bruce couldn’t count the amount of times he’d stepped through the lobby to find Wally already sprinting up the stairs to find Dick, calling a greeting over his shoulder as he went. Sometimes, he rivalled even Kon when it came to his rambunctious energy, despite being much older and, theoretically, more grounded. He wasn’t entirely sure what he’d do if - or when, at this point - he had both of them in the house at the same time.

This time, Wally rushed past him as he approached the front door of his home, coming to a stop next to it with a grin. “Hey, Bruce.”

Bruce cracked a smile, despite how tired he was. “Hi, Wally. Don’t let Alfred catch you running around.”

Wally leaned back against the wall as he waited for Bruce to catch up. He decided to take his time, trudging his way up the gravel. “I didn’t run inside, so I figured I’m safe,” he said with a shrug. 

“I’ll let you be the one to argue that,” Bruce chuckled. “I’m sure he’ll appreciate the damage to the grass.”

He opened up the door, holding it for Wally. He watched with some amusement as Wally carefully peered back down the path, and once he’d apparently confirmed that the grass was just fine, he ducked under Bruce’s arm to head inside. “C’mon, Alfred loves me. Where’s Dick?”

“Not sure, I just got home myself.” Bruce breathed a sigh of relief as he closed the door behind himself. There was nothing quite like the soothing presence of the manor. The only thing that rivalled the security it represented was Jim’s embrace. “Try his room.”

“I’ll text him,” Wally said. He shifted his bag higher on his shoulder and made a beeline for the stairs, only to pause with his foot on the bottom step. He turned, twisting to lean against the bannister instead. “Oh, hey, Barry says hi, by the way.”

Bruce blinked. The League. Of course. It wasn’t like him to forget about keeping up with them. “How is he?” 

“Oh, he’s good.” Wally shrugged, lingering there as he waited for Bruce to catch up. 

“And Hal?”

“He’s good, too.” Wally shifted on his feet, licked his lips, and added, “He wanted to check in, actually. Barry, I mean. He said he heard about the stuff with the press.”

Bruce puffed out a tired laugh. “I’d be surprised if he hadn’t at this point. I appreciate it, though.”

“And,” Wally continued, grinning now, “he said he wants an invite to the wedding, and you can’t stop Hal from being his plus one.”

“It’s a little early to be thinking about any weddings,” Bruce reminded him, rolling his eyes. The thought  _ had _ crossed his mind, which wasn’t that surprising given the ring on his finger. In reality, though, he and Jim were only a month and a half into their relationship, and that wasn’t quite long enough to justify talking about an  _ actual _ wedding instead of the theoretical one that had put them in Paradise. “And Hal would be welcome,” Bruce continued, mounting the steps, “as long as he behaved.”

“You know as well as I do that that’s not likely,” Wally laughed. He skipped up ahead of Bruce again, slinging his bag higher on his shoulder. “This is Hal we’re talking about. He loves a good party.”

Bruce snorted. “I’m aware.” Hal’s own wedding had been an experience. He didn’t think he’d ever seen Barry look so torn between amusement and mortification. 

Wally’s phone pinged, and he tugged it out of his pocket. A soft smile spread across his face in an instant. It was a look Bruce had seen more than a few times over the years, and it was still a delight; where Bruce’s family could sometimes hide their emotions a little, Wally was freer with it, and he made no secret of how much joy Dick brought him. “Dick’s upstairs,” he said, tucking his phone away again. “I’m gonna go say hi. Later, Bruce.”

His footsteps thundered up the stairs, rushing away at what might have been just slightly above normal human speed. Bruce shook his head fondly as he followed at a more reasonable pace.

Seeing Wally got him thinking, though. He and Dick had been together for a long time now, long enough that Bruce wasn’t ever surprised to see them sharing the same space. Jason was a little more cagey when it came to his own love life; he had neither confirmed nor denied anything between him and Roy, but they all seemed to suspect that there was something going on there. It was just a little more difficult to figure out considering Roy didn’t often visit like Wally did.

And then there was this new thing with Tim and Kon. Bruce supposed he should have seen that one coming. It reminded him a lot of Dick’s early days with Wally.

Bruce came to a stop in his bedroom, and as he set down his briefcase, he crumbled. He perched on the edge of the couch, thumbs hovering over the keyboard as he composed a message to Clark. Surely it wasn’t invasive if it was just a conversation between two fathers? What did he even  _ say?  _ He couldn’t remember if he’d ever had a similar conversation with Barry, and he definitely hadn’t with Oliver.

_ Out of curiosity, _ he began,  _ have you noticed anything between Kon and Tim? _

He hit send, and he immediately felt ridiculous. It was almost tempting to send a follow up asking Clark to disregard his message, but then three dots appeared at the bottom of the screen before he could even start typing.

_ There’s definitely something there. Why do you ask? I think it’s cute. _

Bruce exhaled a sigh of relief.  _ No reason. It really is just genuine curiosity. I just saw Tim wearing a MU hoodie the other day, and he said it was from Kon. _

_ I did wonder where that had gone. You’re not going to interfere, are you? _

_ Of course not. I was just wondering if I was reading the situation right. _

_ I think it’s safe to say that there’s potential there. _

The more Bruce thought about it, the better he could see it. Tim was by no means a shy person, but Kon brought him out of his shell and his own thoughts in a way that others couldn’t quite manage. Anyone else struggled to pull Tim away from a task he was puzzling over, but all Kon had to do was walk into the room.

Bruce could sympathise with that. Jim did the same for him, in a way.

_ It’s sweet, _ he agreed.  _ Any bet on how long it’ll take them? _

_ Oh, ages, _ Clark replied, and Bruce laughed out loud.  _ Kon won’t make the first move anytime soon, I can tell you that much.  _

_ Ballpark a date? _

_ Sometime in the next decade? Maybe at your wedding? _

Bruce blinked.  _ What does my non-existent wedding have to do with this? You’re the second person to mention that today. _

_ You’re the next one in the League lined up for it. I’m with Lois, Hal and Barry are already married. You’re the only one in a relationship that isn’t. _

He had a point. Diana and Arthur had their significant others as well, but Bruce wasn’t entirely sure that Themyscira or Atlantis did marriage the same way the rest of Earth did. That wasn’t even counting the non-human members of the League.

_ I can tell you it’s not happening anytime soon, _ Bruce promised, rolling his eyes.  _ It’s too early. _

_ Yeah, but I know you, Bruce. I haven’t even seen you with Jim, but I know you’re in deep. I’d like an invite when the time comes. _

_ If we happen to get engaged in the next year, _ Bruce said,  _ you can be my best man. _

* * *

He thought about it again when he was in bed with Jim that night, sprawled on his back and still damp with sweat. Jim’s breathing was beginning to even out next to him, and there was a lazy smile on his face as he rolled over to kiss Bruce slow and sweet. Just that had a spark of warmth pulsing in his stomach all over again, but it did no more than simmer.

Bruce hummed into the kiss, mirroring Jim’s smile as they parted. “If that’s the greeting I get every time you visit now,” Bruce said, turning onto his side to face him, “I think you should definitely come over more often.”

“Gotta give the press something better to talk about now they know,” Jim chuckled, brushing his nose against Bruce’s. “I’m visiting my boyfriend, how fucking scandalous.”

Bruce laughed. It was too loud for this late at night, but nobody would hear from his little corner of the building. Not even the night owls came this close to his bedroom - unless it was an emergency, anyway. “They’ll report on it anyway until they get bored, you know. Good luck getting to work tomorrow morning.”

“Eh, worth it.” Jim pecked his lips again, and then sat up to stretch. “I’m gonna grab a shower before we get some sleep. You coming?”

Bruce pushed back the sheets only somewhat reluctantly. “Right behind you.”

It wasn’t that bad, though. Jim wrapped him up in his arms as soon as he was close enough, and he kissed him nice and slow as they waited for the water to heat up. Bruce lost himself in the familiar rasp of the scruff on Jim’s jaw, the way his palms swept fondly up and down his arms, the taste that was just simply  _ Jim. _

Christ, Clark was right. Bruce  _ loved _ Jim.

He didn’t say it out loud, not right now. He tucked it in close to his heart, letting it pulse to the tune of Jim’s name as the warmth of it flooded his veins, his nerves. Bruce felt breathless with the knowledge, like it had swept him off of his feet and the only thing keeping him upright was Jim’s arms.

“Think it’s good now,” Jim said, shaking off the hand he’d placed under the spray. He offered it to Bruce instead as he stepped under the water. “Come here.”

Bruce took his hand, beaming. He moulded himself against Jim to kiss him once again, and as he placed his palm against Jim’s chest, he wondered if his partner's heart thudded to the same rhythm as Bruce’s. 


	7. Week 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If there's any scenes you want to see from another character's perspective, let me know! You can find me on tumblr @capedcommissioner.
> 
> Note: Batcest/incest shippers do not interact.

There was a letter waiting for him at the gates to the manor when he came back from work on Monday. This time, the sender had apparently just thrown it through the gaps in the railings. At least their updated security was holding, Bruce thought, scooping it up from the damp grass on his way back up to the house. He opened it as he went, almost bored.

_ Well played, Mr. Wayne, but I wouldn’t celebrate just yet. If you’re going to insist on calling in friends to help, then at least do me the favour of telling Batman I said hi. We’re old friends! _

Another for the Batcave, then. 

Bruce didn’t bother with going up to his room to change. He loosened his tie as he stepped into the elevator, and then leaned back against the wall to wait. 

The Batcave was a bustle of activity when he arrived. Damian had evidently done the same as Bruce after returning from school; he could see his abandoned backpack by the Batcomputer, and his blazer was tossed into a haphazard pile on top of it. He’d pulled up a chair next to Jason, and the two were miraculously civil as they talked and gestured at the note they’d found in the drone. Tim was on Jason’s other side, silent as he stared down at it, lost in thought.

Dick looked up when he heard footsteps, waving Bruce over. “Hey. What’ve you got there?”

Bruce waved the new letter. “We’ve got another one. Sorry, Dick, but I think your copycat theory might be wrong.”

He frowned and leaned into Wally’s touch as he patted him on the shoulder. “What does it say?”

Bruce flattened the letter on the table, nudging it towards the little group. “He claims to know Batman, says we’re ‘old friends’.”

Dick cocked his head. “So it  _ is _ someone we already know.”

“I’ve said it before, and I  _ will _ continue to say so until you get it through your skulls,” Damian growled. “It’s Riddler.”

“You know,” Tim said, plucking at his hoodie strings again, “he’s got a point. Look at the language used in all the letters. They think it’s a game, that it’s  _ fun _ to figure things out.”

Jason nudged him with an elbow. “You’d better confess then, Timothy.”

He rolled his eyes. “It’s not me, Jason. If I wanted to tease Bruce, I could just do it at home.”

Bruce grabbed a spare chair, sinking into it with a sigh. “Please, let’s not open the floodgates.”

“Oh, they’ve been open,” Dick said, grinning at him from across the table. “We’ve been plotting. You just haven’t heard anything yet.”

Well, that was wonderfully ominous. Bruce chose not to grace it with an answer just in case Dick wanted to demonstrate, and instead he scanned the table for the friendliest face he could find. It was, in fact, Damian, who at least looked neutral as he stared back at Bruce. Small mercies, he supposed.

“So,” Bruce said, leaning forwards, “Riddler.”

Damian perked up instantly. “Drake is right,” he said. “Our mysterious sender likes games and puzzles. They want us - or, more accurately,  _ you, _ Father - to work this out. We know that Riddler is more interested in exercising your intellect than doing any real harm.”

“The drones attacked us, though,” Jason said, frowning.

Damian tutted. “Only when provoked, Todd. Otherwise, they simply observed.”

Bruce rubbed at his jaw thoughtfully, brows furrowed. Damian wasn’t wrong; that first time had been because they’d come too close, and the drone they’d taken apart had only reacted when Bruce had started chasing it. As he and Dick had found out only a couple of weeks ago, the drones were primarily there to watch them - and then, he supposed, occasionally deliver letters. 

The only other villain that Bruce could try to link to something so teasing was Joker, but this was not his style. He was more direct, and while elaborate tricks were fun, he wouldn’t do something quite like this.

“So assuming Riddler is the culprit,” he said, “what’s his motive?”

“Being the one to figure out who you were secretly dating,” Dick said simply, gesturing towards him. “It was a juicy secret, and you know he likes puzzles.”

“But he did that,” Wally pointed out. “He got it right, and now it’s out there. Why bother continuing?”

Bruce stared down at the most recent letter, neatly swallowing back the rising worry building in his throat. “Because we haven’t acknowledged him yet. We hadn’t figured out who it was, so as far as he’s concerned, the game is still on.” He glanced up at the rest of the table, lips thinned. “And it  _ is _ still on. He’s referenced Jim in his letters, and now Batman, too. It won’t take him long to make the connection.”

Jason swept a hand across his face. His eyes were a little wide, and the corners of his lips tilted down. “Shit.”

“We saw the drones following us already, Bruce,” Dick reminded him quietly. “We don’t know if it happened before that.”

“I know.”

“There’s no good way of confronting him here,” Tim added. “If you do, it basically confirms it.”

Bruce closed his eyes with a wince. “I know. But I’d rather confront him than allow him to hang this over our heads.”

He could feel the doubt in the room - or maybe it was just the same resignation that was welling up in his chest now, filling his lungs to make him feel like he was drowning. They could play the same story of Batman being a good friend of Bruce Wayne’s, but would Riddler really buy it when it came down to it? Bruce’s stomach twisted uncomfortably with the thought.

He stood, flattening his palms to the table. “We make it clear we know it’s him, and we wait for the next signal. In the meantime, we try to figure out where he’s hiding right now. If we can bypass his game, we will.”

“Bruce,” Tim said quietly, “you know what Riddler’s like if you break the rules in his games. You cheat, he cheats.”

That gave him pause, but then Bruce disregarded it with a gentle wave of his hand. “I’ll play by the rules, but none of you are bound to. I’m the one he’s been threatening, not the rest of you. We reach out, we find out what his endgame is here, and then we track him down.”

* * *

Jim was waiting for him on the GCPD roof. The Batsignal was dark, but the light over the doorway was switched on, casting a yellow glow across the lonely figure there. 

So far, the night had been silent, but that wasn’t to say drones weren’t following them.

He swept down to the roof, and Dick landed next to him. Jim dropped his cigarette to press it under the toes of his boot as they approached. “Evening,” he called, tucking his hands into his pockets. There was a fondness to his smile that made Bruce’s heart race, and he ached to just head over and wrap Jim up in a hug like he usually would when greeting him.

In the end, Bruce settled on a nod. That was appropriately Batman, he supposed. “Good evening.” 

“Hey, Commish,” Dick said, raising his hand to wiggle his fingers. 

Jim chuckled as he lifted his hand in return. “What brings you guys out here tonight?”

“Well.” Dick settled down on the wall around the Batsignal, letting his hands dangle lazily between his knees. “We think we know who’s been bothering you and Bruce Wayne, for starters.”

Bruce watched as Jim’s eyes flickered between the two of them. He almost looked thrown by the disconnect between Bruce and Batman for a moment, but then he inclined his head. “Go on.”

“We think it’s Riddler,” Bruce said simply, coming to hover near Jim, but not close enough for his taste. “The language he’s used in his letters is what we’re going on. That, and the way he’s treated your relationship like it’s a puzzle is particularly suspect.”

“Do you have any leads on him right now?” Dick asked, head tilted to one side. “Anything at all?”

Jim puffed out a breath, rocking on his heels. Bruce didn’t press him right away; it was a lot to drop on him at once, especially knowing that he couldn’t really reach out and touch him. It was better to assume that the drones were watching rather than be surprised by them, and Bruce didn’t want his identity slip to be because Riddler saw him with Jim.

Then again, he had already kissed Jim as Batman, and that had been before they’d known how much of a problem the drones were. Maybe Riddler had just known all along and had decided to toy with him.

“He’s been pretty quiet, oddly enough,” Jim said, leaning back against the wall behind him. His fingers twitched at his sides, as if he’d stopped himself from reaching for another cigarette. “That’s not unusual most of the time since he’s not as destructive as some of the others, but…”

“It’s odd now,” Dick finished, and Jim nodded.

“Pretty fucking odd now you’ve pointed that out.” Jim sighed, and he occupied himself by reaching up to scratch at his jaw. “I should go grab Montoya. She’s the lead on Wayne’s case now, anyway. I shouldn’t be the touchpoint for this.”

Bruce’s heart squeezed. It made sense, but in that moment, he craved Jim’s presence like he needed air to breathe. 

“Of course,” Bruce said, nodding. “We’ll be waiting up here.”

Jim lingered for a moment, shifting on his feet as he stared at Bruce. He wondered if Jim was fighting with the same desire to reach out, the same itch that urged him to seek out his partner to both comfort and be comforted. The moment broke when Jim blinked, and he turned away to head back inside. It only took a handful of seconds before Bruce couldn’t hear the thump of his boots on the stairs.

“So,” Dick said, and Bruce tore his gaze away from the door, “we’re not reaching out to Riddler tonight?”

“We just did.” Bruce came over to take a seat next to Dick, flicking his cape out behind him as he settled down. “I want to see how he reacts to the GCPD when they find out.”

Dick was silent for a long moment. “Okay,” he said, laughing in a way that didn’t suggest much real humour. “Okay, remember what we said about running stuff by the rest of us first? Because that sounds like it’s inviting trouble. You don’t think he’ll be pissed about that? He already left a warning about asking Batman for help.”

Bruce linked his fingers together in his gauntlets, his lips pursed. “I know. This might get his attention enough, though.”

“And you’re playing with fire, noted.” Dick sighed, burying his face in his palms. “Great. Thanks for the warning, Batman.”

He decided not to reply, figuring that anything he said would only fan the flames of Dick’s irritation further. Apparently, it was the right choice; Dick exhaled again, but he lifted his face a beat later, settling back into his relaxed, casual pose - or maybe that was all preparation for Montoya. 

She appeared a few minutes later with Jim right behind her. Bruce locked eyes with him again briefly as he stood, and for the first time, he wished that the eyes of his cowl weren’t a blank white slate. He wanted Jim to see  _ him, _ not Batman.

But then he turned, refocusing on the case. “Detective Montoya,” he greeted.

“Batman,” she replied, offering him a hand to shake. “Nightwing.”

“Evening,” Dick said, as cool as he always was. 

Montoya smiled, but it was all business as she folded her arms. “So. Riddler, huh? Walk me through it.”

* * *

After that, it was just a waiting game.

Montoya called him the following morning to pass along the developments, just like Bruce had expected. He played the part of the politely interested victim, as if he hadn’t been the one to explain it all to her the night before. As he hung up the call, Bruce glanced at his calendar, curious. How long would it take for Riddler to retaliate?

Bruce was determined to not be lulled into a false sense of security. When he arrived at Wayne Tower, he asked Dot pleasantly if the morning’s mail had been delivered, and she directed him to his secretary upstairs. Bruce collected it straight from her desk while she was on the phone, offering her a polite smile as he shut himself in his office.

And there it was. He’d almost expected it to take longer, but they’d apparently hit the nail right on the head.

_ Come now, Mr. Wayne, I thought we talked about calling in your little friends?  _

There he had it: proof that it was Riddler. Just that made grim determination curl tight in Bruce’s chest, drawing him up to attention like a hound catching the scent it was after. It was far, far too early in the day, too bright, but with the way his every muscle was drawn up tight, Bruce ached to thrown on the Batsuit and begin the hunt. Briefly, he thought of Lucius’ hidden little lab below his office along with all of its tech and emergency gear, but he forced himself to hold back. Leaping into action instantly would only reinforce any links Riddler had already made between Batman and Bruce Wayne.

He needed to wait. 

He took a seat at his desk, and he snapped a quick picture of the letter to send to the group chat Dick and Barbara had made. If there was one thing he was going to do right this time, it was let everyone know what was going on.

_ Bruce: Another letter. It’s Riddler, alright. _

_ Damian: I told you. _

_ Tim: Aren’t you in school? _

_ Damian: None of your business, Drake. I could run circles around these children in my sleep. _

_ Bruce: Pay attention to class, Damian. _

_ Damian: I’ll still be watching the conversation. _

_ Jason: Of course you will. What’s the plan now, B? _

_ Bruce: The same as it was before. We track Riddler down, we confront him.  _

_ Dick: And we hope he doesn’t ask why you’re helping out Bruce Wayne? Sure. Sounds safe. _

Bruce rubbed at his forehead. It didn’t sit well with him either - even less so now he was sitting alone in his office; it had seemed like a better idea when he’d at least been in the Batcave with everyone - but he wasn’t sure what else to do. He was damned if he let Riddler continue to play his game, discovering secrets and exposing them when it suited him, and he was damned if he told him to stop. The way he saw it, the best solution was to growl at him enough that maybe he’d make the decision himself and they could go their separate ways.

_ Barbara: On my way over. I’ll start looking for trails. _

_ Wally: I can follow up on those. I’ll be in and out so fast he won’t even know anyone was there. _

_ Barbara: He probably has security cameras, Walls. I’ll take the help, though. _

_ Jim: What am I, chopped liver? _

_ Barbara: Love you, but yes. You’re not supposed to be working on this case now. _

_ Jim: Not officially. _

_ Bruce: Don’t endanger your job. We’re on it. _

_ Dick: Oh, no, Bruce. That goes for you, too. You need to keep up your act so he doesn’t look too closely at you. Go be normal. _

_ Jason: Can’t believe I’m saying this, but you and Jim should go out somewhere. Be obvious. Somewhere he might see you, so he knows for sure you’re not involved. _

_ Dick: Not today, not after the letter. That’s too obvious. _

_ Barbara: Make it a couple of days.  _

_ Bruce: Jim?  _

_ Jim: Thursday? _

_ Bruce: It’s a date. _

_ Damian: Disgusting. It’s the perfect plan. _

* * *

Bruce made reservations at one of the nicer restaurants in Gotham that very same day - Chez Vous, a place with a sort of comfortable, homey feel - and proceeded to keep his head down until Thursday evening. 

Gotham was quiet. He patrolled as usual as Batman overnight, and found little more than some thievery. The rest of the team worked tirelessly in the Batcave, scouring every inch of Gotham for hints; whenever Barbara found something, Wally took off to check it out, and if she stumbled across something else in the meantime, two of the others paired up to observe from afar until Wally was done. It was a neat little process, one that impressed even Bruce. He’d never even considered the use of having a speedster on standby, and he was  _ friends _ with Barry.

It wasn’t constant - they all needed to rest and eat, Wally especially with all of the energy he was expending - but by Thursday, they had covered a decent enough portion of the city. Bruce was impressed.

“Remember,” Dick said, ushering him into the garage, “act normal. Pretend you’re just on a date.”

“I  _ am _ going on a date,” Bruce grumbled, unlocking his car with a click of the button on the fob. “I’m going to dinner with my  _ actual _ boyfriend, you know.”

Dick rolled his eyes. “Yeah, the one you fake married in the first place. Do I need to tell Jim to have you home by ten?”

“No, because first of all, I’m  _ your _ father, not the other way around.” Dick barked out a laugh at that, and Bruce smiled to himself as he opened the door. “Secondly, I didn’t give you a curfew when you started dating Wally, did I?”

“Okay, fair.” Dick leaned against the doorframe, still grinning. “Then I guess all that’s left is have fun but not  _ too _ much fun, be safe, use protection-”

Bruce winced. “Okay, that’s enough, thank you.”

As he climbed into the driver’s seat, Dick cupped his hands around his mouth and said, “Call me if you need anything!” Bruce snorted, amused despite himself, and backed out of the garage.

It only occurred to him as he pulled up outside Jim’s house that he’d never actually visited before. They’d been together for almost two months, and he hadn’t even been on the road that Jim’s house stood proudly on - though, in his defence, they had been hiding their relationship until recently, and Riddler had been occupying Bruce enough that it had simply been easier and habitual to have Jim come to the manor instead. 

Now, however, Bruce slowed outside, reaching for his phone to text Jim to let him know he was there. Once he hit send, he just… looked.

The house was sweet, comfortable, and somehow too small to contain a man as wonderful and important as Jim. And yet, if Bruce had had to choose a building to represent him, it would have been this one: slightly worn like a much loved book, some gentle scarring that didn’t touch the warm world behind the front door. 

He was smiling by the time Jim stepped out onto the porch to lock up, and he was so enchanted and  _ in love _ that he almost forgot to admire Jim’s outfit. It was a callback to their days at Paradise; it was probably the same suit, truth be told, but Jim had taken enough care to ask Bruce what colour his tie was earlier in the week, and he’d managed to find a matching lilac one. As Jim approached, he gave Bruce one of those full, warm smiles that he rarely showed in public, and he raised a hand to wave.

There was something shiny on his wrist.  _ Cufflinks. _

Bruce never had asked for them back, had he?

He swallowed hard. Jim was wearing his ring, of course, and a tie pin and a pocket square, and all of the little details he’d mentioned that very first time they’d gone to dinner were in place. This time, though, it was  _ genuine, _ and it tugged at Bruce’s heart in a peculiar way that he couldn’t quite name.

Jim let himself in, and he leaned across to kiss Bruce’s cheek. “Hey,” he said, still smiling. “You okay there?”

Bruce blinked. He hadn’t even realised he’d been staring so openly. “You look amazing.”

A flush crept up Jim’s cheeks.  _ “You _ do, Bruce. You do it every day, you make it look effortless. I think the last time I saw you in a t-shirt was at that fucking resort.”

“Which, speaking of.” Bruce raised his eyebrows. “You stole my cufflinks.” 

“Hey, there wasn’t time to give them back, and I figured I’d surprise you by remembering all your advice.”

Bruce surged across the middle to kiss him again, properly this time, his hand flying up to cup his cheek. Jim laughed against his lips, and Bruce’s answering smile broke them apart all over again. His heart thudded, pressing  _ Jim, Jim, Jim _ into his ribs.

“Someone’s gonna see,” Jim chuckled.

“I don’t care,” Bruce sighed, fondly brushing their noses together. “Everyone knows anyway. They’re gonna see us at dinner.”

Jim hummed into one more gentle peck, and then he gently pressed a hand to Bruce’s chest to ease him back into his seat. He grinned at him, his cheeks pink. “God,  _ dinner. _ I hope this place you’re taking me isn’t too fancy. Not sure they’ll let me in.”

“They will if you’re with me.” Bruce winked at him playfully just to hear Jim laugh, and then pulled back out onto the road once more.

Chez Vous wasn’t packed when they arrived, exactly, but there was a short queue leading up to the door. It seemed to be moving fairly quickly, though, enough that they were only a few couples behind when they joined. Jim tightened his grip on Bruce’s arm, grumbling under his breath about how hungry he was, and Bruce smothered his own smile before it could get too far.

On his right, there was a subtle click of a camera, followed by a flurry of others. Bruce blinked at the flashes, and as his vision cleared, he felt Jim stiffen next to him. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered.

“Ignore them,” Bruce murmured out of the corner of his mouth. “You’ll only encourage them if you react.”

Jim frowned. He squeezed Bruce’s elbow gently. “Like they aren’t already encouraged.” 

“They’ll get their front page, and then they’ll leave us alone,” he promised, only to be proven wrong mere seconds later when there was a tap on his shoulder. 

Bruce bit back a sigh, and instead he plastered a polite, empty smile on his face as he turned. There was a squirrely looking man standing there, his camera hooked on a strap around his neck, and he had a pen and a pad in hand. He wore too big glasses that seemed to exaggerate his eyes, and his thin green shirt was just a size too big for him.

“Eddie Nashton,” he said, sticking a hand out towards Bruce. “I’m with  _ The Inquirer. _ Can I- Could I trouble you two for some questions?”

Bruce felt his smile seem to catch and stick, forced onto his face to remain as a shield while his mind raced a mile a minute. Eddie Nashton -  _ Edward Nygma. _ He was right fucking here, bold enough to stand right where Bruce could see him, where  _ Jim _ could see him, and Bruce couldn’t react. There was no reason for him to know that name, not as himself.

He couldn’t do a damn thing.

“We’re about to have dinner,” Jim said somewhat awkwardly. “Think they’re about to call us in, so if you don’t mind-”

“Oh! Of course, of course, silly me.” Nashton - because Eddie Nashton was clearly a persona, regardless of the name’s origins; Bruce knew Nygma wasn’t normally like this in person - fumbled with his pen and paper as he tittered. “What about just one question? A photograph?”

“You already have a photo,” Bruce said breezily. If he had to play the cold CEO of Wayne Enterprises to get rid of him, so be it. He needed to alert the family so they could send someone here to tail him ASAP. “What’s your question?”

Nashton blinked, apparently surprised, and then clumsily flipped open his notepad. “You’ve been keeping out of the public eye since your reveal. Why change your mind now?”

Jim’s brows furrowed with quiet wariness, so Bruce forged ahead, flicking his smile a step up from ‘polite’ to ‘blinding’. He could play the part well enough to protect Jim. “Well, why not? The public knows now, there’s no sense in hiding. I thought I’d treat my fiancé to a nice dinner considering I’m hopeless in the kitchen myself.”

“Wayne?” the host called. Nashton scribbled furiously at his page.

“That’s our cue,” Bruce chuckled, sweeping his arm around Jim’s waist. “Excuse us, Mr. Nashton.”

“Of course!” Nashton beamed at him, looking starstruck. “Enjoy your meal!”

Jim exhaled as soon as they stepped inside. The restaurant was soft and muted, and it felt like a blanket of safety after that; Bruce took a moment to appreciate the familiar comfort of classical music and quiet conversation, all wrapped up in a building where nobody looked twice at them as they passed on the way to their table.

Bruce whipped his phone out as soon as they were seated.  _ Nygma’s here, _ he sent to the group chat.  _ Tail him. _

_ Wally’s on his way _ , Dick replied instantly.  _ Tim’s gonna catch up. _

“Nashton,” Jim murmured, drumming his fingers on the table. “Why does that sound familiar?” 

“Because that was Riddler,” Bruce said simply, tucking his phone away.

Jim dropped his menu onto the table with a  _ thwap. _ “What? We need to-”

“Flash and Red Robin are on it,” Bruce continued. “We need to keep playing our part, Jim.”

He could see that Jim wasn’t happy about it, but to his relief, Jim grimaced and turned his gaze down to his menu. Over his shoulder, beyond the window, a red blur streaked past, there and gone in a blink. The nervous tremble in Bruce’s chest relaxed, just a little bit.

“Jim,” Bruce murmured, nudging his foot with his own. “Relax.”

_ “Relax,” _ he huffed, frowning. “I should be out there helping, Bruce.”

“Not right now.” He reached across the table to rest his hand on top of Jim’s. Bruce wiggled his fingers into the gaps between Jim’s, slotting in there comfortably. “I’m not supposed to recognise his name, so it’d be a clear giveaway. With any luck, Flash and Red Robin will find where he’s stationed, and we can move on and figure out how to untangle the whole media thing we’re wrapped up in.”

For a moment, Bruce thought that Jim was going to resist. He saw the flicker of defiance in his eyes, brought on by nothing more than the sense of duty he felt towards Gotham. Bruce could sympathise; he felt it almost every moment he wasn’t in the cowl, even when he knew that the others were out there protecting the city in his place. It was like something tugged on a hook somewhere behind his navel, pulling and pulling until he caved and slipped the cape across his shoulders.

And then Jim sighed, and he flipped his hand over to hold onto Bruce’s in return. “Alright. For tonight only, I’m not a cop.” His smile returned, beginning at the corners of his mouth as they crookedly tilted upwards. “I’m just Bruce Wayne’s boyfriend, out for a fancy dinner I could never afford on my own.” 

A little tingle fizzed through Bruce’s veins at his words. All thoughts of Riddler were dashed from his mind then, lost in the swell of warmth in his chest. 

Settling in for their meal reminded Bruce of Paradise all over again. It was a lot like the first time he’d sat down at a table across from Jim, lit by low, atmospheric light and sharing quiet chatter over their food. He remembered how Jim had taken his breath away with just a smile, and how downright  _ nervous _ he’d been to hold his hand in public, even though it was just for show. This time, it was much easier to reach out for Jim throughout their meal, and he treasured every fond look he got for each brush of his foot or his fingers. 

For once, they didn’t have to act in public. They didn’t have to put on a bold display or, on the opposite end of the scale, pretend like they didn’t know each other.

They could just be  _ them. _

Bruce didn’t care if people saw. He didn’t care if press spotted them on the way out, hand in hand, or if they caught sight of them heading back to Jim’s after they’d left. He even decided to go fully traditional and kiss Jim on his doorstep, and if someone spotted them while driving past this late at night, Bruce decided he would just shrug it off. It didn’t matter, not when he had Jim.

Their fingers stayed tangled as Jim rocked on his heels. “Wanna come inside?” he asked, eyebrows raised. 

“If you’ll have me,” Bruce replied, grinning.

Jim considered him, a lazy smirk on his lips. “Well-”

The click of the front door cut him off. Barbara appeared there, a rucksack over her shoulder, and her cheeks immediately coloured. “Shit. I was supposed to be gone by the time you guys were done at Chez Vous.”

Bruce felt his cheeks begin to burn, and he reached up to rub at the back of his neck awkwardly. “It’s fine,” Jim chuckled, equally flustered. “Where are you going?”

“Uh, trying to subtly give you the house?” She jerked her thumb over her shoulder. “It went a lot more smoothly in my head, mostly because I was supposed to be at the manor already instead. I didn’t know you guys were coming back so early.”

“It wasn’t on purpose,” Bruce said, dropping his hand back to his side with a sigh. “We were just… done eating. How’s the Ridd-”

Barbara lifted a hand, her palm out to Bruce. “Nope. Don’t ask me. You two are going to have a nice evening, and we are going to handle that situation.” She folded her arms, a single eyebrow raised, as she moved out of the way of the door. “We’ll text you later when we know more, okay? I promise.”

Bruce could feel Jim looking at him, quietly waiting for an answer, and he knew instantly that it was the same kind of thing he’d asked of Jim earlier, only now it was reversed: give up Batman for one night, and just be Jim Gordon’s boyfriend. 

It wasn’t a difficult choice.

“Okay,” Bruce said, inclining his head. “If there’s any emergencies…”

“We’ll call you both, of course.” She smiled, satisfied, and Bruce could suddenly see so much of Jim in her that it was startling. “Now let me get out of your hair. I have work to do.”

She set off down the driveway, skirting Bruce’s neatly parked car and going for her own next to it. Jim’s, Bruce realised belatedly, was probably tucked away inside the garage for the night; he’d left his space open so Bruce could take it instead. Had it always been Jim’s plan to bring him back here tonight? 

Bruce didn’t even have a change of clothes.

Jim waved Barbara off, and as she drove away, he leaned heavily into Bruce’s side. “So,” he said, watching her lights disappear around the corner, “we were talking about me having you?”

Bruce laughed far too loudly for Jim’s sleepy neighbourhood, and he allowed himself to be swept inside as he clapped a hand over his own mouth. Jim peeled it away a moment later, pressing him back against the door to kiss him fiercely, and it was only when they stumbled their way upstairs that Bruce remembered the three little words he’d hoped to say to Jim tonight. 

He still didn’t say them yet.


	8. Week 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If there's any scenes you want to see from another perspective, let me know in a comment! And if you're on tumblr, you can find me @capedcommissioner.
> 
> Note: Batcest/incest shippers do not interact.

Bruce had meant to go home after staying at Jim’s. One night turned into two, turned into three, and before he knew it, it was Monday morning and he was still wrapped up in Jim’s sheets. 

Not one member of the family had called. There had been texts reassuring him that they were on the case, that they were checking and triple checking that they really did have Riddler’s true base of operations through plenty of surveillance, and in the end, Jason had been the one to encourage - or, more accurately, damn near demand - that he stay with Jim and relax for once. He’d agreed only when he’d been assured that someone would reach out if he was needed, or if they found something solid to act on.

Even Barbara hadn’t made the trip home. Bruce guessed she’d packed more than one night of clothing in her backpack, which was more than could be said for Bruce. He’d been living in borrowed t-shirts and sweats, and, on the one occasion he’d had to go into work on Friday morning, he’d simply reused his date suit.

And yet, even several days on, there was only quiet. Bruce’s phone was still on the bedside table, and birds chirped merrily outside Jim’s bedroom window.

The man himself shuffled through the bedroom door, stretching lazily on his way back to the bed. He folded himself into Bruce’s open arms, and when he leaned in for a kiss, he tasted like his minty toothpaste. 

“Sorry,” Jim murmured, “didn’t realise you were awake.”

“Mm, I woke up when you got out of bed.” Bruce slumped back into the pillows, tugging Jim down with him. 

He felt Jim smile against his lips, and before he could ask why, he said, “You didn’t entertain yourself while I was up, did you?”

Bruce sighed, rolling his eyes. Eventually, long after Paradise, the subject of that particular morning had come up; Bruce remembered waking to Jim leaving the bed, and it hadn’t taken a genius to figure out why he’d gone for a shower after their accidental spooning. “I knew I was never gonna live that down,” he muttered, playfully mutinous. “You weren’t exactly subtle about your shower that morning either, Jim. I just took advantage of the empty bedroom.”

“At least I did it in the shower,” Jim shot back. He shifted onto his elbow to grin at Bruce, and he lost himself in the soft glow of the morning light as it caught the ends of Jim’s hair, turning them golden instead of brown. 

“Where else was I supposed to do it?” Bruce asked, raising an eyebrow. “Privacy wasn’t easy to come by, and I  _ had _ just been snuggling a very handsome man. I’m only human.”

Jim’s cheeks turned the gentlest bit pink, and Bruce felt a rush of affection. It was so damn easy to make Jim blush; he never seemed to expect compliments, even though Bruce liked to be free with them in the comfort of their own bubble. He  _ adored _ Jim, and he wanted him to know that.

Speaking of.

Bruce reached up, fitting the palm of his hand against Jim’s cheek. He watched as he leaned into it like a cat, his eyes sliding shut with a sigh. There hadn’t been a good chance to tell Jim how strongly he felt yet, not even over their long, lazy weekend - although, in Bruce’s defence, they’d spent a great deal of it in bed, indulging in both touching and sleeping their fill. Bruce didn’t think he’d ever been so well rested and so worn out at the same time.

“Jim,” he said quietly.

His eyes flickered open. Unspoken warmth was written all over Jim’s face, in every wrinkle around his eyes and the creases at the corners of his mouth. “Yeah?”

Bruce’s exhale shivered through his lungs on its way out. “I love you.”

Jim blinked a couple of times, and colour filled his cheeks all over again. He didn’t have time to wonder if it had been a misstep; Jim  _ beamed _ at him, his smile wider than Bruce had ever really seen it, and he puffed out a pleased little laugh as he dipped down to kiss Bruce until he was breathless. “I love you, too,” Jim murmured between presses of their lips.  _ “God, _ I love you.”

A noise slipped out from between Bruce’s teeth as his other hand came up to frame Jim’s face. He couldn’t bite it back, hadn’t even really tried to, but it was worth it for the way Jim shifted, moving to rest over him and settle between his legs. Bruce dragged his feet up the mattress just a little, pressing his knees in on either side of Jim as they kissed. It was like he needed Jim to breathe; he couldn’t get enough of him now, his heart thudding in his chest in a way it usually reserved for the heat of battle. 

He rocked up against Jim, and he felt more than heard Jim’s chuckle. “You’re not tired out from this weekend?”

“A love confession is enough to get me going again,” Bruce teased, thumbing Jim’s jaw fondly. “If you’re interested, that is.”

Jim shook his head with a smile, but before Bruce could question it, he dipped down again, nosing his way to Bruce’s lips. “Of course I am. I don’t think I’ve ever had this much sex in one fucking weekend, though. How am I supposed to go to work after this?”

Bruce closed his eyes as Jim pressed his lips under the line of his jaw, kissing at the scruff Bruce hadn’t had time to shave yet. “I’m sure you’ll manage,” he teased, threading his fingers into Jim’s hair. “I’m the one who has to run around on the rooftops.”

“You don’t  _ have _ to,” Jim murmured playfully. “You have a whole army that’ll do it for you.”

“Somehow,” he laughed, “I think I’ve called in all the favours I’m allowed to.” 

“Then you’ll just have to get by on shaky legs,” Jim shot back, and the confidence alone sent a bolt of heat straight to Bruce’s dick. 

He dragged Jim back down to kiss him, nipping at his lip and soothing it with a quick dart of his tongue, and Jim’s breath shivered against his lips as he huffed. Bruce let go of him when Jim pushed himself back up onto his knees, just so he could pluck at the waistband of Bruce’s underwear. “Can I get rid of this?”

“Absolutely.” Bruce lifted his hips, and as soon as Jim tossed the underwear away and came to settle over him again, Bruce flipped the script.

Jim landed on his back with a surprised grunt, and he grinned as Bruce kneed his way up to straddle his hips. “You know, you can just tell me if you want to be on top instead.”

“It was a spur of the moment decision,” Bruce said, smirking. He came down to rest on his forearms, lazily grinding forwards against Jim. He was already hard, and Bruce’s eyes drifted shut as he rocked again, relishing the firm press of Jim’s dick with only one thin layer of cotton to separate them. Jim’s groan was a low rumble in his ear, and it only encouraged Bruce to ease into a comfortable rhythm; he was content to stay here for a good long while, delighted with the way he could feel every twitch as Jim rolled up against him. 

“Jesus Christ,” Jim breathed, holding on tight to Bruce’s hip. “You’re gonna kill me.”

Bruce silently agreed with the sentiment; something about this, the slow grind against Jim’s still clothed dick, felt absolutely  _ filthy. _ It lodged heat firmly in his bones, and left him humming as he found Jim’s mouth for a clumsy kiss. He did have a plan in mind here, an endgame he wanted to head towards, but he was too easily distracted by the way Jim moved underneath him.

Jim dropped his head back against the pillow when they parted again, his lower lip between his teeth as he rocked up against Bruce. Breathless and smiling, Bruce hung his head as he pressed down just a little harder, just to hear Jim’s breath hitch. 

And then there was a hand dipping between them, fingertips resting on Bruce’s abdomen. 

“Yeah,” Bruce said to the unasked question, and Jim lifted his hand to lick the pad of his thumb. The brush of it against his dick was perfect, and Bruce sighed as he rocked into the touch. Jim’s name tumbled out of him a second later, his breath catching at the way he circled around the head.

“Yeah?” Jim echoed, framing it as a question. His touch became firmer, more of a press than a brush, steady and familiar as he stroked down the length of Bruce’s dick. Somewhere in there, his thumb had been joined by his fingers, touching him in the way that Jim knew he liked. “Do you just want my hand, or-”

Bruce nodded, words beyond him as he rolled into Jim’s hand. Any other time, he’d be more than willing to accept the offer - Jim was utterly fantastic with his mouth, skilled with more than just words - but right now, there was something about this that had Bruce’s blood singing in his veins. It meant that he could kiss Jim fiercely, desperately, as much as he wanted as Jim echoed his groan right back at him. Jim twitched underneath him again, and Bruce trapped his hand between them with the way he tried to press closer.

He already knew what he wanted, but he was entirely too wrapped up in this first. Bruce’s breath came in ragged pants as he felt his muscles winding tighter too quickly, quicker than he wanted - but, then again, this wasn’t the first time, and it definitely wouldn’t be the last.

“Jim,” he exhaled, burying his face in the crook of his neck as he trembled and came, grinding against Jim’s quick, clever hand. It shook its way through him, leaving him warm and floaty, undercut only by the way his thighs cramped from crouching over Jim for so long. His thighs never had liked behaving like that too much.

Jim’s free hand came up to cradle the back of Bruce’s head, his fingers winding their way through his hair almost tenderly. “Jesus,” he breathed, and Bruce could picture the way he was probably staring up at the ceiling, fighting to hold himself together. 

Bruce wasn’t done yet, though. He pushed himself back up onto his elbows, trailing kisses up Jim’s throat to his jaw. “Mm,” he hummed, wordless with the way lazy heat still pulsed through his veins. Given enough, Bruce figured this was probably one of those occasions where he might be able to come again, but he wasn’t sure he was patient enough to figure it out right now.

Instead, he kissed Jim once on the mouth - almost sweet with the way it was a peck - and then began his slow descent, enjoying the route down Jim’s chest, past the bristle of the hair on his torso, down to where it became a trail on his abdomen. Jim’s hand stayed in his hair, though the touch became encouraging rather than soothing at some point on his way down. Distantly, he heard a low murmur of his name, and when Bruce pressed his lips against Jim through the thin barrier of his underwear, he repeated it with a great deal more heat.

“Is this okay?” Bruce asked, glancing up at him. Jim’s cheeks were red and his hair was a mess from the pillow, and he was the most beautiful thing Bruce had ever seen.

“Of course it’s okay,” he huffed, thumbing fondly at Bruce’s hair. “Don’t let me stop you.”

Bruce laughed, low and warm, as he dragged Jim’s underwear down his thighs. “I should’ve known better than to think you’d turn down a blowjob.”

Jim’s chuckle came out just the slightest bit wobbly, and it was only because Bruce had circled a hand around him to steady him. The tip was already wet, and Bruce felt his cheeks cramp with spit with how badly he wanted Jim.

He leaned forwards, dragging his tongue up the underside in a meandering path just to hear Jim’s breath hitch. Bruce hummed, pleased, and parted his lips around the head with the gentle thrust of Jim’s hips. It was worth it for the way Jim broke into a soft curse, his fingers shifting in Bruce’s hair as he sunk an inch lower only to bob up again. He kept it slow to begin with, even as every cell in his body screamed at him to go faster, working his way down until Jim’s dick flattened his tongue to the bottom of his mouth with ease.

“Shit,” Jim breathed, a tremor racing across his skin. “Shit, shit,  _ shit, _ it’s not gonna take me long, Bruce.”

If anything, that was just encouragement. Bruce gently squeezed around Jim’s base as he rose up again, and he eased his way into timing his hand and his mouth, stroking in tandem with his movements. There was a gentle thump from above, and when he glanced up through his eyelashes, he saw Jim panting up at the ceiling, his head back on the pillows. A shiver of heat wormed its way south, tingling in his nerves, but Bruce was satisfied with what he’d had this morning. This was about Jim.

He sucked on the next rise up to the head, and Jim’s free hand twisted the sheets tight enough that Bruce worried they might genuinely tear. “Jesus  _ fuck,” _ he hissed, rocking up into Bruce’s mouth. 

Bruce hummed, the sound a low buzz where it was muffled, and Jim  _ writhed _ underneath him. There was a particular shake in his thighs that only happened when he was close, one that Bruce could feel under his palm as he rested his free hand there to stroke and touch, and he redoubled his efforts, enchanted by the way Jim gasped his way through Bruce’s name.

When he came, it was with another aborted buck of his hips, one that he tried and failed to contain. Bruce gladly rode with it anyway, exhaling hard through his nose with his own quiet satisfaction as Jim groaned his way through his. His thigh still trembled next to Bruce’s cheek, and he smoothed a hand over it soothingly as he dragged the flat of his tongue over the head of Jim’s dick and deliberately swallowed. It earned him the tiniest twitch of his hips again, and Bruce tried hard not to grin. He felt the smile stretch across his face as soon as he climbed up and over Jim again anyway.

Jim met him for a kiss that was more shaky breaths than anything else. His touch on Bruce gentled as he just held him, and Bruce settled comfortably on top of him for the time being, draped across Jim like some great blanket.

Bruce’s heart thudded in his chest to a familiar tune as they parted. “I love you,” he murmured, fondly bumping the tip of his nose against Jim’s.

“Love you, too,” Jim sighed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. Bruce swept down for another kiss, one that turned into two and then three, and it wasn’t long before he lost count, wrapped up as he was in Jim’s arms and the warmth of the weak Gotham sunshine streaming in through the windows.

* * *

The text came through as they were making their belated breakfast.

Jim stood at the stove, clad in some loose boxers and a t-shirt, whistling as he neatly flipped a pancake. Bruce had taken it upon himself to set the table with cutlery and whatever fun toppings he could find in Jim’s cupboards, and now that his job was done, he had decided to settle in one of the chairs to scroll through the news. His phone buzzed with a message from Dick - a direct one, meaning he had deliberately chosen not to send it to their big group chat.

_ We’re making a move tonight. You coming? _

Bruce glanced across the room at Jim, where he loaded a pancake onto one of two plates. There was already a modest mountain there for each of them, and Bruce wondered just how much batter he had left. He was sure that they would work through them all regardless, given that they’d spent the morning working up an appetite. Jim was all loose limbs and easy warmth now, had been ever since their shared kisses in bed not long after, and the sight of him padding around barefoot with such a relaxed smile fixed on his face steeled Bruce.

He loved Jim, loved him in a way Bruce hadn’t quite imagined himself loving someone else. Truth be told, he hadn’t realised he had that much love left to give after his own sizeable family, but Jim - and, by extension, Barbara - had carved out their own place right next to the rest of the Waynes. 

He wouldn’t let anything jeopardise that. He  _ couldn’t. _

But first, breakfast.

_ I’ll be home in an hour. _

* * *

The manor was quiet when Bruce arrived. Nobody was present in the upper floors, not even Alfred, so Bruce made his way straight to the particular parlour that hid the entrance to the Batcave.

Predictably, it was packed. Dick was already suited up without his mask, and he stood in front of the others with his hands on his hips and a frown on his face. Damian was slouched in a chair, clearly sulking, while Jason and Barbara were staring him down, both equally thunderous. Tim and Alfred were the only two who looked calm, really, but all eyes turned to Bruce as he came down the last step to join them.

“Fill me in,” Bruce said.

Dick inhaled a deep lungful of air. “Riddler’s hiding out at an old office, one that used to be owned by the  _ Gotham Gazette. _ They sold it off and the new owner basically abandoned it; it hasn’t seen any use in years. We think he chose it to fit with the cover he used to talk to you guys at Chez Vous.”

“Makes sense,” Bruce said, inclining his head. He glanced between Barbara and Jason, who were both silent but tight with tension. “What’s going on here?”

“We were discussing who would be going with you,” Dick said. “You know, to confront Riddler.”

Jason bristled. “And I still say you need solid backup. Three of you won’t cut it.”

Barbara shot Jason a look. “I should go. My dad was threatened, I should be there.”

Bruce rubbed at the side of his face, considering them. Clearly, Dick had already decided he was going to come, and Bruce had to admit that he did want him for this; he was capable of being calm and levelheaded when he wanted to be, even though he was already prickling with irritation, and he doubted that this meeting would need to turn to violence. That ruled Jason and Damian out - they were both disciplined, but quicker to turn to aggression for threats if necessary.

“Babs,” Bruce began, careful, “if you go, there’s a chance he could connect you to Jim, if he hasn’t already. He’s smart.” There was always the possibility that Riddler would see right through him, and Bruce didn’t want any more identities exposed tonight.

She deflated instantly. Bruce watched as she glanced away, lips thinned as she saw the merit of his point. “I… can’t argue with that.”

“Tim,” Bruce said, and he saw him perk up at the corners of his eyes, “with us. The rest of you can tune in on the comms.”

Damian made a noise that wasn’t too far off of a growl. “I should be with you.”

“The fewer at risk, the better,” Bruce said, gentle but firm. He too wanted to mount an all out attack on Riddler, assemble everyone to intimidate him into silence, but that wasn’t how Riddler worked; he preferred conversation, a game of verbal chess, and the best way to checkmate him was to go in as calmly as possible. “Tim, get ready. Dick, start up the Batmobile. I want to do recon before we approach.”

Bruce turned to the mannequin holding his own suit, apprehension bubbling up in his chest. It was the same kind of tension he always had before patrol, but this was different; there was so much on the line here, so much that he couldn’t afford to let go. The weight of the Batsuit was a comforting presence on his shoulders, and as soon as the cowl was over his head, Bruce exhaled a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding.

It was time.

* * *

The old office was dark and quiet, a slumbering beast under the cover of night, and showed no signs of life. They’d left the Batmobile several streets away to approach on foot, and for a moment, Bruce crouched between Dick and Tim on a rooftop to simply observe the building, frowning under his cowl. While the outside was still and silent, Bruce just about picked out something green beyond the glass of the front doors, and he knew that that was deliberate.

“He was waiting for us,” Tim murmured.

Bruce unhooked his grapple gun from his belt. “Then we’d better not keep him any longer.”

He swung down to the street, and he heard the distant snap of two other grapple lines as Dick and Tim followed. Bruce hesitated briefly outside the door, peering through the glass to get a sense of his bearings; it was difficult given the way it was frosted, but here the green glow was more visible, and there was a camera obviously placed overhead. The element of surprise was gone, but that wasn’t anything unusual with Riddler, so Bruce didn’t linger on it.

Carefully, he eased open the door. The source of the glow was instantly obvious; there was a trail of green glow-in-the-dark paint rounding the corner and disappearing out of sight. 

“Huh,” Dick said, cocking his head. “Looks like he was really angling for a chat this time. Do you think he’ll have tea waiting for us, too?”

“If he does, you’re welcome to try it,” Tim muttered playfully, and Bruce heard Dick’s quiet laugh behind him. “I’m not touching anything he gives me.”

Bruce led the way, glancing down the hallway as they followed the trail. It curved its way up a set of stairs, and Bruce tapped at a button on his gauntlet to scan his surroundings the deeper they went. As far as his mask could tell him, there were no traps, and the paint was just ordinary paint.

The trail ended at a room just a little way down the corridor. The room behind the frosted glass was lit, and if Bruce squinted, he could just make out a figure as it moved past the door and out of sight. The nameplate claimed that the office belonged to  _ E. Nashton, The Inquirer, Chief Editor. _

“Subtle,” Dick said dryly.

Bruce puffed out a quiet laugh before he could stop himself. Then, once he had schooled his face, he knocked.

“Come in,” Riddler drawled.

He was seated behind a desk, his feet up on top of it in a lazy sprawl. A smile was already firmly plastered on his face as Bruce pushed his way into the tiny room, and with Dick and Tim behind him, there was almost no room left over. Part of him wondered if that was deliberate, designed to either hinder them from fighting or to just make them feel claustrophobic, but Bruce shrugged off the thought as he folded his arms to glare down at Riddler.

“Welcome, welcome,” Riddler said, grinning now. “I’d say have a seat, but there’s rather a lot more of you than I was expecting, I’ll admit.” He arched an eyebrow. “Did our friend Mr. Wayne tell you what I said about playing by the rules?”

“Enough is enough,” Bruce growled. The door clicked behind him; Dick had closed it. “You are done haunting Wayne. This ends now.”

Riddler cocked his head. His gaze was heavy on Bruce, and it made him itch underneath his suit. He didn’t like the analytical way Riddler watched him, not right now. Any other time, the challenge was welcome - particularly as Riddler sought only to bother him, not to actually harm Gotham or its residents - but this time, the stakes were different. “Does it end now, Detective? Does it?”

“Yes,” Tim said simply, and Riddler only deigned to cut him a bored glance.

“This is between me and Batman, junior,” he said with a flick of his hand. “The adults are talking.”

Tim remained calm, but Bruce bristled. “Interesting, given how childishly you’ve involved yourself in other people’s business. Why bother, Riddler?”

“Oh, please, I’m sure you’ve already figured that out.”

“I want to hear it from you.”

Riddler smirked. “There was such a tantalising mystery dangling in front of the whole city, Detective. How could I not bite? And, well, when one puzzle led to another…” His smile widened, and he dropped his legs to the floor so he could lean over his desk. “Why, it just made  _ sense.  _ Bruce Wayne is with Jim Gordon in the day, and Batman meets the commissioner for a rooftop rendezvous at night.”

He spread his hands across the desk, beaming. “I had a couple of different theories, of course. Batman can’t make all of his tech without  _ someone _ paying for it, and it’s certainly not the commissioner lending his spare cash. So, Wayne then: someone who has  _ reason _ to want justice in this city.”

Carefully, Bruce curled his hand into a fist at his side. It was a tell, he knew, but his temper was flaring with the bolt of fear in his chest, and he needed  _ something _ he could control as everything spiralled before him. A fist, then, was something he could do, something that he could squeeze all of his paralysing frustration into so he didn’t act before he could think. He felt the way Dick and Tim glanced at him, waiting for some kind of signal, but Bruce didn’t give one.

“All it took was a little prompting,” Riddler continued. “A little push to get a reaction. Wayne played by the books, but you two had to be  _ close _ to react that quickly. You know, if I hadn’t seen you side by side with the commissioner so often, I almost would have entertained the idea that you were one and the same.”

Dick snorted. “Sure, a cop moonlighting as a vigilante. I’m sure that’d go down well with the mayor.”

This time, Riddler just ignored Dick completely. Bruce could almost feel Dick’s frown as Riddler refused to even glance his way. 

“So,” Riddler said, his voice lower now, and Bruce leaned forwards just a little despite himself, “if you weren’t secretly the commissioner, then the only other option was a third party - doubtful and a boring twist - or Wayne himself. I settled on the latter.”

Bruce was silent for a moment as he weighed his options. He could deny it, of course, but that would only encourage Riddler to keep looking, to keep prying until he found the same result. He wouldn’t leave a puzzle unsolved, and Bruce was sure that there would be some kind of hint sooner or later. Right now, he had that one small piece of control, and as he relaxed his fist, he asked, “What gave it away?”

Riddler’s grin was as sharp as a shark’s. “You did, just now.”

The bottom of Bruce’s stomach dropped in a terrifying swoop. Dick and Tim were quiet, obediently trying to hold onto that most precious secret even though it was now in the open, and Bruce appreciated them more than he could ever say.

“Everything makes sense if you look at your actions through that lens,” Riddler pointed out. He spoke like he was savouring a meal, like he’d taken a bite of the most delicious dessert. It was clear that he  _ relished _ the fact that he’d stunned Batman with words alone. “Of course, seeing you up close at Chez Vous helped - your jaw gives you away, by the way, if you know where to look - but it was disappointingly easy to play you like that, Detective.” Riddler dropped into a pout. “You can’t even accuse me of anything. I didn’t even  _ steal _ to figure this out.”

Bruce took a single step forwards, but kept a tight leash on the irritation flaring in his chest. “You won’t say a word to anyone,” he snarled.

Riddler tilted his head. “First of all, why would I deprive someone else the pleasure of working out this little mystery? And secondly, what will you do to ensure my silence?”

“That’s fucking cold,” Dick muttered. 

Tim stepped up next to him, but he was turned towards Bruce. “You’re not seriously going to let him twist your arm?”

“What is it you want?” Bruce asked coolly. “Money? Recognition?”

Riddler wrinkled his nose. “Try harder, Detective.”

Bruce planted his hands on the edge of Riddler’s desk to loom over him. “I can hand you over to the GCPD for any number of crimes you’ve committed in the past. Hell, I could  _ frame _ you if I wanted and they would take my word as gospel. I’m offering you a chance to walk away from this. Enough games.  _ Tell me what you want.” _

It was, perhaps, just a little bit satisfying to see Riddler swallow hard. That smile stayed in place, but he was just the tiniest bit ruffled, and Bruce decided to take the win for what it was. “My terms are simple,” he said, leaning back in his seat casually. “I’ll leave you and the dear commissioner alone, and I’ll keep your secret, too. I won’t breathe a word. All I want in return is to leave unharmed and unfollowed…”

He trailed off, and Bruce waited. Riddler’s grin was right back to genuine and sharp. “And?” Bruce prompted.

Riddler winked. “An invitation to the wedding, of course. Consider it my reward for being the first to work out your puzzle.”

Bruce blinked. 

Dick laughed before he could stop himself. “An invitation,” he repeated. 

“We’re not really engaged,” Bruce said stiffly. It was all that came to mind, locked up as he was with surprise. 

Riddler rolled his eyes. “I’m well aware. However, if you’d rather I considered leaving breadcrumbs across Gotham…”

Bruce shifted. It had taken him completely by surprise, and while he knew he still had the upper hand - three against one, he could take Riddler in if he so desired - he had the makings of a deal here, and he wasn’t about to go back on that without reason. There was honour among thieves, and while he didn’t consider himself one of those thieves, he knew that he existed in a careful grey area with the law, and he didn’t want to compromise himself if he could avoid it. His identity and Jim’s trust protected him, and Riddler could shatter that in an instant.

Really, it would be smarter to just take him in, but that could go just as poorly. If Riddler got out after that, there would be no telling what he’d do. This deal was, at least, something Bruce could put his faith in as far as Riddler was concerned. He was a man of his word, one who played by the rules of his games, and as long as the other party did the same, there was no problem.

“Done,” Bruce said, and he ignored the way Tim frowned in distaste. “What makes you think we’re getting married anytime soon?”

Riddler snorted. “Oh, please, Detective. You don’t have to be me to figure out  _ that _ puzzle.”


	9. Weeks 12, 13, 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact! This story is now entirely written. The third fic is complete and just needs reading over, and then I can just continue to post weekly until it's done. All that's left is the fic of deleted scenes/alternate scenes, which you can still comment requests for! If there's other scenes you want to see or ones from another character's perspective, just let me know below and I can add it onto my list. Currently, it's mostly from Trouble In Paradise, so if there's anything from Paradise In Trouble you want, let me know!
> 
> Note: Batcest/incest shippers do not interact.

Bruce had underestimated how nice it was to exist peacefully until he was suddenly handed the chance again. Even then, he found himself watching, waiting for another letter, some kind of sign that Riddler had decided to force a new game, but after a few weeks, the only mail on his desk was the usual kind.

He had met with Renee on the GCPD rooftop the same night, Dick and Tim still at his side. Jim had been right beside her, his arms folded as he listened to Bruce tell his slightly edited version of the story: they had found Riddler, confronted him, and he had agreed to back off. Renee had been tempted to bring him in regardless because of the way he’d flirted with very real threats, but in the end, Jim had been the one to wave her off. When she’d headed downstairs to close the report, Bruce had laid a hand on Jim’s shoulder to give him his silent thanks.

It also meant that they were able to enjoy the milestone of three months together in peace. Bruce kissed Jim at the door to the manor, barely stifling his smile as he heard Jason’s snort as he passed through the lobby. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Jim chuckled, patting Bruce’s side fondly. “You don’t have to do anything special, you know. I’m a simple guy.”

“I like treating you, though.” Bruce swept the door closed, and then he tucked his arm around Jim to guide him upstairs. “Come on, let’s put your bags away and then we can relax.”

“You sound like you have something planned.”

The corners of Bruce’s mouth twitched with the hint of a smile. “I don’t, unless you count takeout for dinner and a movie with the family.”

“Hm.” Jim considered him as they mounted the stairs. “Do we get to choose what to eat and watch?”

“We can try and put it to a vote, I’m sure.”

That vote ended up favouring their preferred food - pizza, and a lot of it to feed all of the teenagers in the manor - but they were outmanned when it came to the movie. Barbara’s suggestion of  _ Sherlock Holmes _ won, but Bruce couldn’t complain about it too much considering it had been the best option out of what was on offer. He liked  _ Terminator, _ but not for every single movie night.

It was there, tucked under Jim’s arm on the couch with his stomach full of pizza, that Bruce felt truly at home.

* * *

There was time to make amends with his family, too. He had apologies to make for keeping them out of the loop, and Bruce had never liked making missteps when it came to his children. He was supposed to set a good example, and he often tried to the best of his ability, but even he knew that they deserved better here.

He gathered them in the dining room to talk to them, low and quiet as he admitted his faults - keeping the letters secret in the first place, his decision to provoke Riddler without further discussing it first - and awaited their reactions. Dick nodded somewhat stiffly, but he did seem to breathe a little easier before he left for Keystone for the weekend. Jason did an impressive impression of Bruce himself with his noncommittal grunt, and Tim and Damian made similar noises that implied that they accepted ihs apology.

It was, as always with his family, a start rather than a resolution.

* * *

“It’s nice to have Jim about the manor more often.”

Bruce ducked his head to hide his smile as he dried off a fork. “It is.”

Alfred waited patiently, and then handed him a knife from his spot by the sink. “Can we expect many more visits this week?”

“I don’t know,” Bruce said honestly. He tucked the knife into the drawer with the rest of the cutlery, and then bumped it shut with his hip so he could take a plate instead. They did have a dishwasher, that much was true, but Alfred had always preferred to do things the old fashioned way, and Bruce was more than happy to help. It was nice to spend a calm moment with Alfred simply doing the chores; it was a comfortable touch of domesticity, which was something he found himself craving more and more as he got older. In his thirties, he’d eagerly spent more time on the streets as Batman, but now that he was in his forties, Bruce longed for the simpler things sometimes.

Alfred hummed wordlessly as he scrubbed at a stubborn spot of gravy on his plate. It had been an impressive roast, and he’d sent Jim and Barbara back home with leftovers that would keep them full for a couple of days. 

“Have you considered,” Alfred said, glancing up at him, “offering the both of them the possibility of staying for more than a couple of nights?”

“They know they’re more than welcome to,” Bruce assured him. There was no chance of anyone even coming close to insulting Alfred’s hospitality; not one person who frequented the manor would dream of it. “Babs invites herself over often enough, and Jim comes over every week.”

Alfred was quiet for a moment, and once Bruce reached for the plate in his hands, he caught his gaze again. “That’s not what I meant, Bruce.”

He paused, tea towel hovering uncertainly in the air. “What did you mean?”

“I meant something more… permanent. The manor has plenty of space - Barbara even has her own room, she’s a part of the family already - and everyone seems to be much happier with it.”

Bruce swallowed hard, desperate to get rid of the lump in his throat. It wasn’t that it hadn’t crossed his mind; he knew how much he enjoyed lazy mornings with Jim, or the hubbub of the full dining table, or the warm laughter as they all gathered on a quiet evening for a movie before patrol. The thought of living with Jim was one that set his heart racing, but he couldn’t help thinking about the way the media would potentially present it. They’d narrowly escaped the public’s criticism the first time, and Bruce wasn’t so certain that they would be lucky again quite so soon.

“I could give them a key each,” he suggested, finally returning to the motions of drying. Alfred had a neat stack of plates on the draining board that needed his attention, and he had already moved onto the pots. “Then they could come and go as they pleased. I’m sure they already both leave belongings here.”

“I do recall Barbara doing a load of washing,” Alfred said, inclining his head. “Jim, however, seems to think he is still simply a guest, and not a member of this family like everyone else.”

The thing was, Bruce could see what Alfred meant. Jim didn’t often wander about the manor in the same way that any of the others did, drifting where they wanted without prompting. Usually, he’d follow Bruce to the kitchen, or he’d simply linger on the couch after he’d parked himself there. He was comfortable, but he didn’t treat the manor like a home.

Bruce stared out through the windows over the sink, past the porch and out into the gardens beyond. They stretched farther than he could see, extending beyond the first bushes and trees that marked the winding path through the flowers. It wasn’t hard to see why Jim might still tread carefully, perhaps without realising; the family was welcoming, but the manor itself was still an imposing beast, dripping the fortune it was worth however you looked at it. Jim’s home was well loved, but it wasn’t much when compared with this building.

There was a snap as Alfred removed a rubber glove, and he laid his hand on Bruce’s forearm to give it a gentle squeeze. “I think, perhaps, it’s time to make sure he knows how much we all care. How long have you two been together now?”

“Three months,” Bruce murmured.

Alfred patted his arm. “In my book, that’s long enough to offer him that key.”

Bruce blinked, and he turned his gaze back down to the plate in his hands. As Alfred slipped his glove back on, Bruce slowly resumed drying, easing back into the familiar motions of it. 

A key would be a good start. It didn’t have to mean anything if Jim didn’t want it to, but Bruce could see the appeal of having Jim be a more solid presence in the manor. There was something to be said for the way he seemed to bring a quiet calm to any given situation, and how he could turn that on its head when he laughed in that deep, warm way.

Just the thought of waking up to that most days made his heart skip a beat.

* * *

There was, of course, another matter to address first. If he’d been the only resident of the manor, Bruce wouldn’t have hesitated to grab one of the spare keys and take it to Jim’s that very night, and while Alfred had given him his blessing, that didn’t count the other four members of the house.

Dick grinned at him. “Perfect. Hey, if we’re inviting boyfriends to live with us now-”

Jason shot him a scowl. “Dude, that doesn’t mean you can invite Wally.”

“He’s had a key for years,” Dick said with a dismissive wave. 

Bruce tried not to laugh at the way Jason rolled his eyes. He knew Jason didn’t actually mind Wally all that much, but he  _ did _ enjoy playing the slightly mutinous younger brother. “I’m not asking Jim to move in,” he clarified, holding out a hand to stop the bickering before it started. “I’m just… doing pretty much the same thing, actually. Giving him - and Babs, actually - a key so they can come and go as they please.”

“That’s fine with me,” Tim said with a shrug. “I like Jim, he’s cool.”

“You’re just trying to butter him up so he lets Kon come over,” Jason shot back playfully.

Tim flushed bright pink. “Kon isn’t my boyfriend. We’re not- He’s my  _ friend, _ Jason.”

Jason leaned back in his armchair, rolling his eyes. “Uh-huh, sure he is.”

“Like you don’t want to invite Roy over,” he muttered, only to pretend he’d never said a word when Jason shot him a slightly more heated glare. 

Damian, on the other hand, considered Bruce carefully, and he stared right back while the other boys bickered, waiting for his verdict. He was, of course, aware of the fact that Damian might scrutinise any relationship his father had; Talia had been important once upon a time, and while Bruce certainly didn’t regret it - being with her had brought him Damian, after all - it was long in the past for him. They had been too different, in the end. 

He and Jim, however, were a matching set, and had been ever since Bruce had taken up the cowl.

“I suppose I don’t mind,” Damian sniffed, flicking at an invisible piece of lint on his sleeve. “Gordon proved himself to be a good man many years ago. I don’t have any issues with your choice of partner, Father.”

Bruce felt some small weight slip from his shoulders, and it was only now that it was gone that he realised it had ever been there in the first place. 

“Thank you,” he said, and he genuinely meant it. 

Jason raised an eyebrow. “Did you really think any of us would have a problem with it? He’s been coming here for months now.”

“I thought it would be polite to ask,” Bruce said, raising his hands in surrender. “You know, considering-”

Tim interrupted, grinning. “Considering you’re gonna marry him one day and we’ll have a second dad.”

Bruce’s heart leaped at the word ‘dad’. He considered himself their father, but it was rare for anyone but Damian to actually call him that. In the end, the title didn’t mean much; he was well aware that they did, in fact, all happily looked up to him with the same warmth and affection he felt for them. It didn’t matter that they had all mostly flown the nest in one way or another, not when he was still their safe place to roost. 

He wanted to be that for Jim and for Barbara, too.

“Once again,” Bruce said, smiling even as he rubbed at his forehead, “Jim and I aren’t actually engaged.”

“You might as well be,” Dick said, grinning. “You’ve been acting like a married couple since, like, the second week.”

“You even had your first fight right there at the dining table,” Jason said, to a chorus of murmurs and quiet snickers. 

Bruce rolled his eyes. “Well, at least I know it can survive a  _ small _ argument at breakfast.”

Damian snorted, and when Bruce glanced his way, he was smirking. “If  _ small _ is what you call trying to pull rank over the commissioner, Father.”

“Okay.” Bruce pushed himself up from his seat, ignoring the way his cheeks flamed at the reminder. “If that’s a resounding  _ yes _ to giving Jim and Babs keys, I’m going to start making plans. No, I don’t need you all following me there.”

As he headed for the door, he heard Dick call, “I can give Babs hers! She’s coming over for game night later!”

Bruce paused, dug into his pocket, and pitched one of the two keys over to Dick. He caught it neatly, and proceeded to loop the keyring around his finger to spin it lazily. “Knock yourself out, Dick.”

He looked smug, and it took Bruce a moment to realise it was deliberately done to give him the space to ask Jim alone. His kids really were too smart for his own good.

* * *

Jim was home, Bruce knew that much. He’d texted ahead, and he’d waited for confirmation that Jim was back from work. Even then, Bruce had waited just a little longer, just to make sure Jim had made it through his usual evening routine of a shower and dinner.

Barbara had indeed showed up at the manor before Bruce had left, and she’d given him a wave as she made a beeline for the living room. 

As Bruce parked on the driveway, he tugged his jacket collar a little higher on pure muscle memory. The press had taken the opportunity to snap pictures of him and Jim when they saw them, and while they hadn’t gone as far as to wait outside Jim’s house yet, Bruce didn’t want to encourage anything. His footsteps crunched as he headed up the gravel to the porch, and he rocked on his heels as he listened to the distant ring of the doorbell.

It didn’t take Jim long to open it up and tug him in. He was in a t-shirt and sweats, and his hair was still damp from his shower when Bruce threaded his fingers into it to kiss him. Jim hummed pleasantly, and he eased Bruce back against the door as it closed behind them.

Sure, Bruce was here on a mission, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy this.

“What brings you here?” Jim murmured, barely parting enough to speak. Their lips still brushed when he spoke.

“Wanted to see you,” Bruce replied just as quietly, tipping his head forwards to rest it against Jim’s. There was something so sweet about sharing the same space, the same breath. It felt like he could hear their hearts beat in time if he listened hard enough. “How was work?”

“Same as always.” Jim pecked the corner of his mouth again. “Come on in. I’ve already eaten, but I can make you something if you’re hungry.”

Bruce curled one hand in Jim’s, and the other stayed in his jacket pocket, folded around the key. The ridges bit into his palm as he followed Jim into the living room. “I’m good, I had something before I left.”

“Drink?” Jim asked, glancing back at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Sure, whatever you’re having.”

He sunk onto the couch as Jim stepped through into the kitchen, and he returned with two cold beers. Condensation still dotted the glass as he took it to crack open the seal. He hadn’t originally planned on staying the night - that depended on how this went, really - but he certainly wouldn’t turn down a gentle touch of alcohol to soothe his nerves.

Jim squinted at him as he settled back onto the couch, spreading his legs enough to knock their knees together. “You can make yourself at home, you know. Don’t need to keep your jacket and shoes on.”

Bruce leaned forwards to place his drink on the coffee table, and as he did, he was gripped by a sudden surge of confidence - or, well more just the desire to get it out of the way. He wouldn’t run away if Jim gently turned it down, but he would gladly offer him some space if it was too much too soon.

“Actually, I wanted to ask you something,” Bruce said, and he saw the subtle shift that let him know Jim was paying more careful attention now. It was in the way his gaze sharpened just a touch, coupled with the tilt of his head.

“You haven’t had more letters, have you?” he asked, frowning now.

Bruce almost laughed. He settled with a puff of amusement as he shook his head. “No, I’d tell you right away if I had. No, this is… It’s something more personal.”

Jim’s gaze flicked down to Bruce’s hand - his  _ left, _ he realised with a sharp stab of  _ something _ in his heart, and didn’t that set Bruce’s thoughts racing? - and then he settled on Bruce’s face again. “Is everything okay?”

He slipped one hand back into his pocket, and he reached for Jim’s with the other. Jim linked their fingers gladly, and Bruce gave his a comforting squeeze. “Everything’s fine,” he promised, smiling. “Nothing’s wrong. You can relax,  _ Commissioner,” _ he added, teasing.

Jim rolled his eyes, but he sat up anyway to set his drink down next to Bruce’s. There was a fond look on his face, folded into the lines in his face and the warmth of his eyes. “Alright, I’m relaxed. What is it?”

Silently, he withdrew his hand from his pocket, and he turned Jim’s hand over so his palm faced the ceiling. He pressed the key into his hand, and then he settled in to wait, his heart hammering away inside his chest. Jim stared down at the key for one long moment, apparently surprised into silence, and when he finally looked up to meet Bruce’s gaze again, he seemed… hesitant. 

“I’m a good detective, but I’m not that good,” he said, and when Bruce chuckled, Jim joined him with a soft laugh of his own. “What’s this for?”

“The manor,” Bruce said. Jim swallowed. “It’s not… it doesn’t have to mean anything if you don’t want it to. It’s more of an invitation for both you and Babs, in the hope that you’ll treat the manor as your home, too.” He paused for breath, and he desperately wished he could decipher whatever it was on Jim’s face right now. He supposed that matters of the heart complicated his ability to read people, at least when it came to his own relationships. “I know it’s too early to ask you to move in, but if that’s something-”

“Bruce.”

He closed his mouth.

“Yes,” Jim said simply, and oh, God, he was smiling that brilliant smile that made Bruce feel like he’d taken a dive off of Wayne Tower. “Don’t expect me to sell the house - that’s for Barbara, when she wants it - but I can move a few things in.”

Bruce shifted closer to him, his cheeks aching as he beamed at Jim. “It still doesn’t have to be moving in if you’d rather keep it looser.”

“I already said yes,” Jim replied, flicking his arm fondly. He tossed the key onto the table so he could take both of Bruce’s hands in his own, and Bruce melted under the fond rub of his thumbs. “Who gives a shit if it’s too early? Nothing about our situation has been normal, I’m not about to start caring now.”

“Well,” Bruce said, tilting his head, “I don’t know many couples who pop that particular question after only three months.”

Jim raised an eyebrow at him. “I also don’t know many couples who wear wedding rings without even being engaged, but here we are.”

Bruce licked his lips. Something curious and hesitant rose in his chest, curling tight around his heart. “We could fix that someday, if you wanted to. It’s definitely too soon for that one, but… I’d be open to it later down the line.”

He felt the moment Jim’s breath caught in his throat; it wasn’t just a soft noise, but a hitch that tripped up Bruce just as much as it did Jim. “You’re really laying all your cards on the table tonight, huh?” he asked with a quiet, warm laugh. 

“It’s what got us here in the first place, isn’t it?” 

Making a move while they were at Paradise had been an easy decision. It had had the potential to go down in flames if Bruce had been reading all of the signs wrong, but he was sure he hadn’t been imagining the way Jim’s gaze had lingered, and he certainly hadn’t been the one to initiate that first kiss. It had haunted Bruce’s every waking moment, right up until he’d been able to repeat it in their room. Jim was everything he wanted in a partner, both in terms of work and their personal life.

Jim’s eyes were so, so soft with affection. It made Bruce’s heart ache, even as he held onto his hands like a lifeline.

“Let’s get to a year first,” Jim said eventually, a fond chuckle in his voice. “After that… we’ll see about really giving the press something to talk about.”

* * *

Jim’s move into the manor was slow enough that Bruce almost didn’t notice. 

It began with the neatly folded clothes in the empty drawers of Bruce’s dresser, and the shirts hung up in the wardrobe. Jim kept his usual toiletries in their shared bathroom so he didn’t have to bring them every time he stayed, and a second toothbrush appeared in the holder next to Bruce’s. Somewhere in there, Bruce stopped thinking of the other side of the bed as simply  _ the other side, _ and began thinking of it as Jim’s.

The dining table had never had a set seating plan, but there were patterns to be observed. Alfred always took a seat next to Bruce; if Wally wasn’t around, Dick would park himself between two of his brothers; Bruce would always find that Damian would settle opposite him, just so he could be close but not too close. That all fell apart if they had any extra visitors - Barbara would sit next to Dick, and Roy and Kon would gravitate towards their friends - but Bruce didn’t tend to count that as part of the pattern just yet. 

Jim, of course, took the empty spot on Bruce’s other side, just like he had any other time. It felt different in the days and weeks after he’d given him the key, though.

It finally felt real when Bruce reached into his laundry basket and found one of Jim’s soft sleep t-shirts. He’d tossed it in there that morning before heading to work, all while he grumbled about needing his first cup of coffee. Bruce brushed his fingers over the stretched neck of the t-shirt, a fond smile on his lips.

He had a similar, startling moment of realisation when he saw Jim come home with Dick and Damian one day. He was, of course, aware that they had gone to the arcade; Damian forever pined over  _ Cheese Viking, _ and while Dick was usually the one to indulge him, Jim had actually accepted the invite when Dick had jokingly offered it. They had been gone before Bruce had come home from work, and had barely made it back in time for dinner.

Jim ruffled Damian’s hair as they parted at the door of the dining room, and Bruce’s heart stopped when Damian beamed up at him. “You’re not so bad at that game, you know, kid.”

He watched with wonder as Damian puffed up with pride. “I’ve had plenty of practice, Gordon. I’m sure you could rise through the ranks if you put your mind to it.”

“Somehow, I don’t think video games are really my thing. I’ll leave that to you.”

Dick drifted over to Bruce’s side. He folded his arms with a smile, somehow managing to lounge even while standing fully upright. “He likes Jim a lot,” he murmured.

“I can tell,” Bruce breathed back. Any louder and Damian would hear them, and the spell would be shattered. He didn’t want to ruin this delicate balance; Damian looked  _ happy, _ truly and genuinely delighted, just like he had when Bruce had presented him with Titus as a puppy.

Dick nudged him with an elbow, and Bruce glanced at him out of the corners of his eyes. “If Dami likes him this much, he’s a keeper.”

Bruce huffed out a soft laugh. “I certainly hope he is, considering he’s half moved in.”

Dick’s shoulders shook a little with his quiet chuckle. “I’m just saying it takes a lot to get a smile like that from Damian,” he pointed out, inclining his head towards Jim. “He doesn’t even let  _ me _ mess up his hair like that. I almost wanna ask if Jim’s bribing him somehow. Maybe it’s candy.”

“I’m sure the GCPD would be thrilled,” Bruce said dryly, and this time Dick laughed loud enough to draw Damian’s attention. His smile didn’t drop, though, even when he broke away from Jim to take his seat at the table, and it persisted even through the chatter at dinner. 

That one small interaction forced him to notice the easy way Jim interacted with every single member of his family. Tim and Dick launched into discussions with Jim as they ate, and he even had a comfortable rapport with Jason that followed them outside for the occasional cigarette in the evening. Alfred welcomed him with open arms, of course, just as he had with Wally when Dick had first presented him as his boyfriend, and when he caught Bruce’s eye across the table, there was a satisfied little glint to them.

Maybe, just maybe, Alfred had wanted a full house just as badly as Bruce had.

* * *

Bruce leaned in the doorway to the living room and breathed out a slow, measured sigh through his nose. “We’re beginning to run out of room,” he murmured to Alfred.

“Somehow,” Alfred agreed.

Somehow, the children alone had managed to take up most of the living room, and that was down to the fact that they had just two extra guests than normal. Dick, Wally, and Barbara had commandeered their own couch, just like they usually did, and Jason was fighting valiantly to keep one for just him and Roy, the latter of whom was busy talking to Dick like Damian wasn’t bickering with his brother right next to him. Tim and Kon made a nice contrast, tucked in on the third couch - the one that Bruce and Jim usually occupied - by talking quietly amongst themselves; Bruce didn’t think he’d ever seen Tim look so shy and expressive at the same time, and he certainly hadn’t seen Kon act so well behaved.

Jim appeared at his elbow. When Bruce glanced at him, he saw Jim frowning. “Where the hell are any of us supposed to sit?” he grumbled.

“I’m sure someone can be convinced to sit on the floor,” Alfred said. 

In the end, Wally caught sight of them standing in the doorway, and he tugged on Dick’s elbow so they could slither down to the carpet together and lean back against a couch. Damian settled nearby, his frown vanishing when Titus dropped his great head into his lap. As Jim swooped in to sit next to his daughter, Alfred perched on Tim’s other side, and Bruce took great delight in the way Kon’s eyes widened with slight apprehension. Admittedly, he was probably being a little too hard on him given that he and Tim were, allegedly, not an item yet, but it was a little bit amusing that his respect for Tim’s parental figures trumped his usual playful attitude. He would relax over the course of the evening, no doubt, but for now, he folded his hands in his lap and leaned over to ask about Alfred’s day. 

Jim offered Bruce a hand, and he sunk down on his other side with a smile. “Wasn’t so hard after all,” he teased.

“For you,” Dick groused, tossing a chip at him. “We’re the ones who got stuck with the floor.”

“It’s not so bad,” Wally said, stretching out his long legs. “We’ve got Titus down here. Oh, and Damian’s cats!”

Damian shot Wally a wary glance. “Be gentle with them, West. They’re not fond of strangers.”

“I’m not a stranger when I’m here all the time. Hey,” Wally cooed, wiggling his fingers at one of the little grey balls of fluff that peered at him from under the table. One crept forwards, curious, and sniffed his fingers. Apparently, it deemed him trustworthy, because it clambered onto his knees to rub its cheek against the side of his hand with a soft chirp. 

The movie didn’t matter, Bruce realised. If pressed, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to remember the title, or even the plot whenever he spared the screen a glance. 

What he  _ did _ remember, however, was the affection spread like a blanket throughout the room, from the way he held Jim’s hand to Dick’s head on Wally’s shoulder, all the way to the gentle press of Jason and Roy’s knees. Even Kon dared to lean against Tim, who blushed in the flicker of the explosions on the TV. 

Alfred met his gaze again, just like he had at the dinner table, and they shared a private smile. 


	10. Week 56

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey here we are at the end of fic 2! Chapter 1 of the third (and final!) fic is being posted at the same time, so you can just read straight on into it. I'll start posting the alternate POV snippets soon (and I'm still taking suggestions for that!) once I've got some more written. Thank you everyone for coming along on this ride!
> 
> If you'd like to follow me on tumblr, you can find me @capedcommissioner.
> 
> And, lastly, Batcest/incest shippers do not interact.

Their anniversary came and went, as easy as the transition from one season to the next. Bruce treated Jim to a pleasant dinner at home, out in the rarely used seating area in the gardens. It was on a warm day late into the summer, and they were left in peace to enjoy their food and drink and each other’s company. Predictably, they fell into bed together that same evening, as they did most nights, and they took things slow and sweet as they shared the same breath. 

The rings remained on their fingers. Briefly, they had revisited the topic around the six months mark, long after the press had lost interest in their relationship; once it was clear that it was here to stay and there was no scandal to be found, the pressure waned, and they breathed freely once again. 

“We can always take these off, you know,” Bruce had said one morning, watching as Jim considered his ring in the early sunshine. It had been far too late for any significant changes to come of it, but Bruce had been aware of the weight it carried, the expectation it placed upon their relationship. 

Jim, however, had just shrugged. “Why would I want to?” he had said, and that had been that.

For the most part, their lives hadn’t changed. Bruce still met him on the GCPD roof, and he still welcomed Jim home with a kiss in the early hours of the morning. Very, very occasionally, Bruce would pull him into the shadows of the roof when Jim just looked too damn handsome, and he would ease him back against the brick wall to let him know how much he wanted him. It often came with the condition of endless teasing from whoever he was patrolling with that night, but it was always worth it for the way Jim blushed bright pink as he straightened his tie again. 

Riddler had been true to his word; Bruce’s identity remained a secret, and while he clashed with him again on more than one occasion through regular incidents, Riddler didn’t mention what he’d known for close to a year now. It was odd to realise that he trusted one of Gotham’s most notorious villains, but then again, Riddler had always occupied more of a grey area with the way he left any innocents out of his plans. It was only after their confrontation that Bruce really noticed it, but the boys had been right all along: Riddler was more interested in pushing Batman to be better than making his life miserable.

As far as things at home went, they stayed relatively the same. Tim and Kon still danced around one another - Clark told him over text once that he’d tried talking to Kon to no avail - but Jason inadvertently revealed his relationship with Roy in a reasonably simple slip up. Bruce had woken early for work, craving coffee, and he’d left Jim to sleep away his night shift in favour of creeping to the kitchen to wake himself up for the day.

Dawn was just breaking, and thin, watery light crept in through the windows as he tiptoed down the hallway. Each brush of his feet on the carpet seemed to echo back at him, so it wasn’t hard to pick out the sound of a door softly closing with a click. Bruce paused, peering down the corridor that housed Jason’s room, and he saw Roy there with his hand still on the doorknob. He knew for a fact that Roy’s guest room was further down.

Roy turned, and he jumped when he saw Bruce watching. “I can explain,” he said, holding up his hands. Truth be told, Bruce was curious to hear what explanation he had for leaving his son’s room in his underwear and a tank top at six in the morning, but he waved him off with a barely stifled laugh.

“No need,” he promised. “I won’t tell anyone.” Jason clearly wanted his privacy if he hadn’t said anything so far, and Bruce wasn’t about to take that away from him before he was ready.

Roy deflated with visible relief. “Thanks. I’ll just, uh…” He jerked his thumb back towards the door. 

Inside, there was the muted sound of Jason’s voice where it was thick with sleep, and as the door closed behind Roy, hush fell over the house once more. Bruce smiled all the way down to the kitchen, and as he leaned back against the counter with his freshly brewed cup of coffee, he sat on that new piece of information with the knowledge that he was going to do absolutely nothing with it. Jason would bring it up when he was ready, if he ever was; Bruce knew better than to push.

* * *

It was the same with Tim and Kon. 

From where Bruce stood, secure in his own relationship with over a year of history behind himself, it was simple enough to say how easy it was to make that first move. He’d done it, Dick had done it, and somewhere along the line, Jason had, too.

He got to watch the early stages play out before his very eyes on what could very well be the last warm day of the year. The Gotham sun had found some last reserve of energy, and it burned down hot enough to reduce most of them to thin t-shirts or swimming clothes. The pool in the gardens was barely used, but it was being put through its paces now; a battle raged in the water, where the surprising team of Barbara and Damian waged war against Tim and Kon with water guns and pool noodles. Titus stood at the sidelines, squirming with excitement as he barely listened to Damian’s command to stay out.

Carefully, curiously, Bruce watched the way Tim lit up with his laughter as Kon surged up with a burst of super strength to get a little more height over Barbara. She squealed as he thwacked his noodle down on her shoulder, and he crashed back into the water with a triumphant shout, leaving waves in his wake. Tim grasped him by the forearm to heave him back to the surface, and as they traded breathless smiles, Bruce looked away. This was a private moment, one that wasn’t for him. It would likely only hinder things if he outright asked Tim about it, so he had long ago decided to hold his tongue. They’d get there eventually.

Jason stood with Alfred at the barbecue, loading up a plate to take back over to where Roy was sitting in the sun. Their affection was hidden in smaller gestures, ones that meant the world to them but little to anyone else; Jason patted Roy’s shoulder as he handed over the food, and Roy grinned up at him as Jason settled back into his seat. 

Dick and Wally weren’t too far from him either, and as Jason joined them again, they sunk back into a conversation that was full of laughter and smiles, like he’d never left. Wally had looked like he was dozing under his sunglasses, judging by the way he was sprawled out in the sun and how loose his grip was on Dick’s hand, but at the scent of freshly cooked burgers he stirred, pushing himself upright so he could peer over at Roy’s plate. Dick stole him a sausage, grinning innocently at Roy as he handed it over to Wally, and Bruce suppressed a smile at the muffled, playful bickering that followed.

Jim had managed to grab them a private little spot under an umbrella, and Bruce smiled up at him as he returned with two cold beers from the kitchen. “Thanks,” he said, nudging his sunglasses up onto his forehead. Jim looked amazing in shorts and a Hawaiian shirt; Bruce was reminded of Paradise, and of all those long days by the pool where he’d just wanted to kiss him. 

“No problem.” Jim dropped a kiss on his cheek before he settled into his own chair was a relaxed sigh. They were separated by the table under the umbrella, but it had been a necessary evil for the sake of their food. Only crumbs remained now, though Bruce was tempted by the idea of another burger since Alfred still seemed to be working his magic on the other side of the pool. That thought was dashed when Jim stretched out his legs to hook his ankle around Bruce’s, just so some small part of them touched. 

Instead, he sipped at his drink and watched the scenes around the garden unfold. Damian made a sound that wasn’t unlike a battle cry as he clashed noodles with Tim, and Roy burst out into loud laughter at something Dick said while Jason hid a smile in his burger bun. Titus barked, wriggled, and finally launched himself into the pool, and Barbara giggled at Damian’s demands for him to  _ leave, Titus, get out! _

Bruce laughed against the rim of his beer bottle. His chest felt warm and full, and it wasn’t just the heat of the sun. The manor was full of life, bursting with the inherent joy of summer, and he was truly, deeply, happy.

Fingers brushed against his, and he took Jim’s hand in his own without question. A thumb rubbed at the band around his ring finger, quiet and contemplative, but Bruce was so used to the motion that it barely struck him as odd.

It didn’t occur to him even when Jim cleared his throat to pull his attention, nor when Jim squeezed his hand and smiled at him with a hidden promise in his eyes. “Bruce,” he said.

“Mm?” Bruce set his bottle down on the table, twisting in his seat just a little to better face him. “What is it?”

For a moment, Jim didn’t say a word. Affection was written across every inch of his face, from the curve of his smile to the softer corners of his eyes, and Bruce felt it thud through his heart in a familiar way. Over here, in their little bubble, the world beyond these two chairs didn’t exist. 

Jim drew in a shuddering breath, almost like he hadn’t breathed for a moment. “I love you,” he said.

Bruce smiled. “I love you, too.”

But Jim wasn’t done. He gave a little nod at Bruce’s words, acknowledging them, and then forged ahead. “I just… Jesus Christ, Bruce, I love you so much. You’re a fucking amazing person.”

Something tickled at the back of Bruce’s mind, but he ignored it. “Where’s this coming from?” he asked, amused and flattered all at once.

Jim released his hand as he pushed himself up from his chair, and then-

And then he sunk to one knee in front of Bruce, and his entire view narrowed down to this one moment, this patch of the garden, like he was caught in a snowglobe. Jim reached into his pocket, but he kept whatever it was concealed for now, hidden in his downturned fist so Bruce couldn’t see. His hand found Bruce’s again, and it was only when Jim squeezed it that Bruce realised there was a fine shake in his own fingers.

“Now, I’m not the best at words and I’m kind of making this up as I go along, so you’ll have to cut me some slack here,” Jim said, and Bruce exhaled a sound that he supposed passed for a breathy laugh. “You’re the best man I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing,” he continued. “I’ve never admired anyone more than I’ve admired you. I’m so fucking lucky to just know you, Bruce, let alone be with you. This city doesn’t deserve someone as good as you, and I don’t either, so God fucking knows how I got to be here.”

Bruce bit the inside of his cheek to keep his eyes from prickling. It was tempting to make another joke, another playful quip, but he wasn’t sure that he could find the breath to speak.

Had the rest of the garden gone quiet, or was that just the snowglobe effect?

“So,” Jim said, turning over his fist to reveal a little velvet box. He lifted the lid, and there, nestled in the centre, was a silver ring; Bruce could just about see the edge of some looping text on the inside of the band, but he was a little too busy blinking hard and trying to catch his breath to attempt to decipher it. “Bruce, will you marry me?”

In lieu of speaking, Bruce just nodded, quick and desperate. His lungs seemed to shiver in his chest as he did, and he finally felt the blessed rush of air again as Jim plucked the ring out of its box to slip onto his finger. It fit perfectly, of course, and it nestled into place above the gold band he’d worn all this time.

Bruce yanked him forwards then, crashing his lips against Jim’s. Distantly, he heard whooping and cheering, but it was muted beneath the fuzz of static in his ears. 

“Of course I’ll marry you,” he said eventually, laughing the words into Jim’s shoulder as he held him tight. He wasn’t entirely sure when he’d surged to his feet; all he knew was the solid warmth of Jim in his arms as he clasped him to his chest. The corner of the box dug into the dip between his shoulderblades as Jim squeezed him just as tightly. 

“Well, thank fuck,” Jim murmured, and Bruce burst into breathless giggles all over again as he buried his face into the crook of Jim’s neck.

“Hey!” 

He looked up, peering across the water to where Jason was waving. “What?”

Jason lifted his sunglasses - not that he needed them; Bruce knew he wore them just for the look, not because the sun actually bothered him - to nod at them. “Is it safe to come over and congratulate you yet?”

Bruce peeled himself away from Jim’s side, but he reached for his hand, clasping it in his own. “Yeah, it’s safe,” he said, rolling his eyes fondly. 

Barbara was the first there, crashing into Jim’s arms with a delighted shout. Jim’s hand fell away from Bruce’s as he wrapped Barbara up with a grin, spinning her on the spot, dripping water everywhere. Bruce was quickly overwhelmed by the others as they pounced, Wally first and Dick a close second, and then Titus was bounding around them as he shook off his coat, spraying the lot of them. 

And there, a warm smile on his face, was Alfred, and Bruce sunk into his hug to squeeze him tight. “Congratulations, Bruce,” Alfred murmured, and Bruce buried his face into his shoulder in an attempt to compose himself, only to end up right where he started all over again when Damian snaked his arms around his middle.

* * *

Bruce didn’t check the engraving until that evening, while Jim was in the shower. He perched on the edge of the bed with both rings - gold and platinum, Jim had told him, not silver - in his palm, turning them over as he considered them. The gold was special, of course, but Bruce already planned on switching to the platinum ring overall, considering the meaning of it.

The light caught the writing on the inside as Bruce tilted it to slip it back on. He paused, lifted it, and squinted as he puzzled his way through the looping cursive.

_ Our paradise. _

He laughed quietly to himself as he slipped the ring back into place, right down to his knuckle now that the gold band was gone. It was so sweet, so oddly cheesy for Jim considering just where their relationship had started, that it made Bruce fall in love with him all over again. The actual Paradise Resort was long gone after all of the police fuss - Bruce had checked after the Riddler fiasco, and all reports had said it was just an empty building now - and while it had been a hub for criminal activity, he couldn’t help thinking of it just a little fondly.

Briefly, it occurred to Bruce to purchase the building for himself; it would certainly make for an amusing suggestion for a honeymoon. He snorted as he thumbed the ring, but the idea took root, even though he knew it would likely be a poor publicity move to do so.

Then again, it  _ would _ be worth it just to hear Jim laugh when they arrived. 

* * *

“What did you do to Kon?”

Bruce gently cocked his head. “Not a thing. What’s wrong?”

Clark had his arms folded and he was frowning, but Bruce wasn’t worried; he didn’t need super powers to know that Clark was just messing around. There was a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth, and there was a certain softness to his eyes that he reserved for any and all of his friends. If he was trying to act all fatherly here, he was failing.

“He seemed… I don’t know, stunned when he came back.” Clark glanced up and away, thoughtful as he looked out at the stars twirling idly past the Watchtower window. “Your engagement wouldn’t have anything to do with it, would it?”

Bruce shrugged. “Well, he was there when it happened. As far as I’m aware, he didn’t take my distraction as a chance to make a move on Tim.”

“No, he definitely didn’t,” Clark sighed. “He’s still pining.”

“Mm. Tim is, too.”

It felt oddly normal to discuss their sons like this, even in the aftermath of a League meeting. Having said that, the others were still gathered and chatting amongst themselves, too; across the room, Hal and Barry were laughing with Arthur, and Diana was wrapped up in some kind of conversation with Victor and J’onn. 

So no, it wasn’t uncommon to stand around afterwards, but family didn’t quite come up like this, not like they were two dads in the school parking lot.

Clark nudged him with an elbow, warmer now. “Congratulations, though, Bruce.” 

Not for the first time, Bruce was grateful for the cowl. It hid the way his cheeks burned, but it did nothing for the smile that spread across his face, subtle at first but then much less so. “Thank you.”

“You know,” Clark said, grinning, “I believe you made a promise about making me your best man if you got engaged in a certain amount of time-”

Bruce rolled his eyes. “I did, didn’t I? Consider the role yours.”

The rest of the League seemed to be gathering, coalescing into one group as they moved towards Bruce and Clark. It was too late to wipe the smile off of his face; Hal was already raising an eyebrow as he wandered over, head cocked, and J’onn offered Bruce a polite incline of his head with a knowing look. There was no escaping this, it seemed.

“Okay, whatever has you two smiling together has gotta be bad news,” Hal said, lounging back against the wall. “What’s up?”

“I’m engaged,” Bruce said simply, and he took great pleasure in the way  _ both _ of Hal’s eyebrows shot upwards now.

“You’re seriously telling me someone liked you enough to put up with you for more than five minutes?”

Barry elbowed Hal sharply in the side.  _ “Hal,” _ he hissed.

“What?” 

Bruce just snorted. Next to him, Clark shook with silent laughter. “Funnily enough, Hal,” Bruce said, “not everyone is as unbearable as you.”

“C’mon, kids, break it up,” Barry said teasingly, rolling his eyes. “Congrats, Bruce, really. When’s the wedding?”

“No idea yet. It only happened a couple of days ago.”

“I didn’t even know you were dating someone,” Hal said, frowning. 

Clark squinted at him. “Do you ever read newspapers, Hal? That one was everywhere.”

“Nope. You think I have time?”

“You laze around enough to make it seem like you do,” Bruce muttered, smirking when Hal shot him a look that simply said  _ touché. _

Diana reached forwards to clasp Bruce’s hand in both of her own, shaking it with clear warm delight on her face. “I’m very happy for you,” she said. “Will we all have a chance to meet him before the wedding?”

“I don’t know about that,” Bruce said, smiling wryly. “Jim’s as busy as we are sometimes.”

“Jim,” Hal repeated, cocking his head. “Why does that sound familiar?”

Bruce bit the inside of his cheek to hold back his laugh when he saw the way Barry closed his eyes and winced. He leaned in towards Hal, muttering, “Commissioner Jim Gordon. GCPD. Hal, we’ve literally  _ both _ seen him, he came into town to speak to the CCPD once.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Point being,” Hal said, grinning, “we’re all invited, right?”

A yawning pit of horror opened up inside Bruce. Hal Jordan at his damn wedding? He remembered how the man had acted at his own; he didn’t even know what he wanted yet, let alone what Jim imagined, but either way, it certainly wasn’t Hal making a fool of himself on the dancefloor. There were much better ways he could imagine spending the reception, and it involved a nice dinner with his family.

Then again, he had already invited Clark. Diana was a given, as were the others, and if he invited Barry…

Damn it.

“Yes,” Bruce sighed, and Hal’s smirk widened, as if he knew just how much pain he was causing him. “Please just remember that there will be civilians at this wedding, most likely. You need to be as normal as possible for just one day.”

“No promises,” Hal laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. “Congrats, Spooky. Looking forward to getting my invite. What do I even get you as a wedding gift? You’re stupid rich already.”

Bruce closed his eyes under the cowl. “Peace and quiet would be nice.”

To his horror, Hal’s arm looped around his shoulders. They were close enough in height, but Bruce still slumped with a grimace. “Just you wait until your bachelor party,” he snickered, wiggling Bruce from side to side. “We’re gonna have a  _ blast.” _

“Certainly, if I can blast you back into space.” Bruce ducked down to extricate himself from Hal’s grip, neatly stepping away as Hal laughed. “Or maybe I’ll get lucky and you’ll forget to come back for your mail, so you won’t see the invite.”

“That’s where Barry comes in. And, you know, with Wally visiting Dick, I’m not gonna forget about this anytime soon.”

“Lucky me.” 

_ “Yes, _ lucky you,” Diana said, and it was hard to stay so horrified when she was so genuinely excited about the wedding. When she moved on, Victor was the next to shake his hand, and then J’onn had some wise, warm words for him not long after. Arthur clapped him on the shoulder hard enough to almost knock him over.

In the end, Bruce was exhausted by the time he made it back to the teleporter. He did appreciate the League, both as teammates and as friends, but they were an excitable bunch, and he didn’t always have the energy to match them. The silence in the room was nice, broken only by the beep as Bruce tapped in his coordinates.

Before he could step onto the platform, the doors  _ whooshed _ open behind him. Hal was there, arms folded as he leaned against the doorframe. 

“What is it?” Bruce asked, puzzled.

“I just wanted to see you off,” Hal said, nodding towards the teleporter. “And for real, though. Congrats, Spooky. I’m happy for you.”

Bruce allowed himself a small, gentle smile. “Thank you, Hal.”

And then Hal pointed a finger at him, and his trademark grin was right back where it had started. “I’ll be looking out for that invite, though, and I’d better be in that bachelor party.”

He turned away, rolling his eyes. “As long as you behave, I suppose you can have an invite. We’ll see about the other part.”

“I’ll take that as a yes, then.” Hal waved to him lazily. “Have a safe trip home, Bruce.”

Hal quickly fizzled out of his vision before he could form a reply, and he was replaced by the cool, dark depths of the Batcave. There was a familiar sense of vertigo as his body realised the slight shift in gravity, the totally new location, but it faded just as easily as it always did. 

There, waiting for him, was Damian, who spun in his chair to nod at him. “Welcome home, Father. How was the meeting?”

“Business as usual.” Bruce wandered over to ruffle his hair, and he grinned when Damian batted his hand away just as he always did. 

“Gordon is upstairs if you’re looking for him,” Damian said, reaching for the keyboard to get right back to work. Bruce squinted at the screen, trying to decipher whatever it was he was working on. He recognised the map of Gotham, but he didn’t see the connection between the dots yet. “He’s making dinner with Pennyworth. I suspect that they’re up to something.”

“I’m sure we’re all in grave danger,” Bruce agreed, playfully deadpan. To his surprise, Damian laughed quietly, and warmth burst to life in Bruce’s chest. It stayed there, fluttering, as he caught the edge of Damian’s smile as it lingered on his face. 

He was still there when Bruce emerged from the changing room, dressed comfortably now. He placed the Batsuit on its hooks, and before he could get too far, Damian spoke up once more.

“He asked, you know, Father.”

Bruce paused, one foot on the bottom of the stairs. “What?”

“Gordon. He asked if we would mind him proposing to you.”

He couldn’t help it; he openly stared back at the Batcomputer, where Damian was apparently entirely unconcerned by the bombshell he’d just dropped on him. His fingers continued to fly across the keys like he hadn’t spoken at all. 

Bruce remained still, stunned into motionlessness. The simple fact that Jim had taken the care to involve Bruce’s family in such an important decision touched Bruce more than he’d ever thought it might. He knew they both enjoyed the way their families blended into one, but it had never occurred to him that Jim might ask for their  _ blessing. _

“None of us minded,” Damian continued, steamrolling over him with ease. “Why would we? He makes you happy.”

“Very happy,” Bruce confirmed, barely speaking above a murmur. He wasn’t sure he could. “Do you like him?”

Damian clicked his tongue. “I do. I would have said something by now if I disapproved.”

It was as close to a ringing endorsement as Bruce was going to get. Still, overwhelmed, he strode over to the Batcomputer to sweep Damian into a hug, ignoring his halfhearted protests.

“I’m working, Father,” Damian sighed, burrowing into Bruce’s chest. “But I suppose I can spare a minute.”

Bruce laughed quietly into his son’s hair. “If you drop information like that on me, you can spare a lot more than a minute. Are you coming up for dinner anytime soon?”

“So I can endure you and Gordon making eyes at each other?” He paused to tut. “I suppose I can. Let me save my work.”

Bruce released him, albeit reluctantly, and then Damian followed him upstairs. The house was already filled with the scent of cooking, and they followed their noses to the already full dining room - Roy and Wally were here again, judging by the loud laughter behind the door - and when they stepped inside, Jim met his eyes from across the room as he set out plates.

“Welcome home,” he said, stepping around the table to kiss Bruce’s cheek.

And this, Bruce thought, truly  _ was _ home.

**Author's Note:**

> Reminder: do not interact if you ship incest.


End file.
